


Big Man with a Gun

by LilGray1326



Category: Moonlight (TV), Southern Vampire Mysteries - Charlaine Harris, True Blood (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friendship, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 17:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 142,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15934928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilGray1326/pseuds/LilGray1326
Summary: Josef Kostan, California’s Vampire Sheriff of Area 2, needs to convince the North American Magister that his best friend, Mick St. John’s, human should be turned and not ended as punishment for Josef and Mick unlawfully destroying a fellow vampire in her defense because he doesn’t want to live in a world where Beth Turner doesn’t exist.  However, Mick’s stubborn insistence that Beth remain human puts her continued existence in danger.  How can Josef protect Beth without betraying his best friend’s well-known wishes or his own heart’s secret desires?  Alternate Universe after Moonlight S01E15; Pre-True Blood S01E01





	1. The Calm

**Author's Note:**

> Series: Living by Moonlight  
> Episode Title: Big Man with a Gun  
> Number in Series: Season 01, Episode 01   
> Timeline and Canon Notes: This story begins on the evening of Wednesday, January 30, 2008, the same day as the end of Moonlight’s Episode 15, ‘What’s Left Behind’ and the night before the beginning of Episode 16, ‘Sonata.’ Most everything that happened through the end of Episode 15 happened, and the story picks up later in the day (err night actually.)   
> For True Blood, vampires have not come out of their coffins yet. So that is set to happen in mid-2008 instead of 2006, and the True Blood aspects of this story and the stories to follow will mostly be AU with key points from the series retained.  
> Several of the characters’ ages from both series are no longer canon so be aware that there are changes to some ages, but I’ve detailed them within the story.   
> Relationships in this Episode: Josef Kostan/Beth Turner (Slow-Burn); Mentions of past Mick St. John/Beth Turner canon relationship  
> Series Genres: Crossover, Supernatural, Drama, Friendship, Fantasy, Eventual Romance (Slow Burn)  
> Episode Rating: Rated M for naughty words and sexy bits.  
> Series Warnings: None that I can think of beyond naughty language, sexy bits, and canon-type violence. However, if you only love Beth with Mick, this isn’t the story/series for you because my end game relationship in this series is Josef/Beth. This is your only warning.  
> Purveyors of Plot Bunnies: Luner Kat and pyrodaemon  
> Betas: brooklyn4, Luner Kat, pyrodaemon  
> Story Banner By: Brookie Twiling  
> Chapter Banners By: Lilly Gray  
> First Draft Final Word Count: 104,334 words  
> Final Draft Final Word Count: 142,158 words  
> Chapter Count: 13  
> Prompt/inspiration: Inspired by the lyrics to Big Man with a Gun by Nine Inch Nails.  
> Status: Complete  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Moonlight or True Blood. The recognizable characters, settings, locations, plotlines, quotes, etc. from the franchises above belong to their respective owners, not me. Also, I don’t own the lyrics to Big Man with a Gun they belong to Trent Reznor. I am making no money from this story, and I intend no copyright infringement.  
> Author’s Notes about how this story was born: I had some friends pick numbers and then used the songs’ places in my lyrics folder to figure out which song was which number. Kelly Trobaugh chose #25, which is ‘Big Man with a Gun’ by Nine Inch Nails. I hope you enjoy it, Kelly!

 

 

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Chapter 001**

**The Calm**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Josef Kostan’s PoV**

**Wednesday, January 23, 2008; 6:00 p.m. PST**

**Beth Turner's Apartment, Los Angeles, California**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

While I flip through a stack of photos showing a car hitting Mick and then Mick getting up like nothing happened, Beth says, “The rest of the paparazzi have moved on.  Dean won’t.  He won’t stop stalking Mick.”

To think I thought Mick guarding a celebrity and jumping into the 21st century with both feet was a good thing.  I forgot that photogs are an issue they didn’t use to be.

I sigh and look up from the inconvenient photos before saying, “And eventually he’ll get a picture of Mick vamping or drinking blood.  This whole digital revolution is bad for vampires.  Back in the day, a photo didn’t matter.”

Her brows knit together before she asks, “Because vampires come out blurry on film?”

I stare back at the top photo of Mick airborne after the car hit him and then nod, “It’s the silver in the emulsion.”

I look up and meet her eyes, “And all a blurry photo proves is the photographer’s incompetence.”

She snorts despite the severity of the situation and asks, “Are you speaking from personal experience?”

I grin and shrug, “Let’s just say there was a-ah, particularly rowdy night at Garbo’s I wouldn’t want documented.”

Beth quirks an eyebrow and crosses her arms, “Don’t tell me, you’re the reason she wanted to be alone?”

I chuckle lightly and smirk, “Now Beth, you wouldn’t want me to kiss and tell, would you?”

She pouts but shakes her head just a bit, so I stalk towards her and ask, “So, what do you want me to do about this Foster character?”

I lean against her kitchen island with one elbow and face her.  She turns and follows suit before shrugging one elegant shoulder and looking down at her carpet, says, “I thought you could handle it, you know, pay him off or something.”

I sigh.  Greedy humans like this Foster character don’t stop asking for money once you give them some.  If I pay him off, I’ll be doing it for his entire life. 

I narrow my eyes and lower my voice before asking, “You think that’ll work?”

Beth’s eyes studiously stay glued to her floor, and her voice is much smaller than I ever want to hear it when she says, “No.”

I look at her then and what I see surprises me.  She is still focusing on the ground, but her shoulders are set and her muscles tense like she’s ready for battle.

Well, I’ll be damned.  She knew all along paying Foster off wouldn’t work and she still called me instead of Mick to handle the situation.

I want things to be clear between us though, “Well, then you know how I’m gonna handle it.”

She looks up then, but her posture remains firm and strong when she meets my eyes and says in a soft voice, “Mick has protected me, saved me more times than I can count.”

I nod because it’s true.  Beth Turner has an incredible knack for getting into tight squeezes.  Nothing I’m sure she couldn’t have handled on her own, but Mick took it upon himself to be her guardian angel almost precisely 23 years ago when he rescued a then four-year-old Beth from the vampire, Coraline DuVall.

Now, Mick and Coraline have a sorted history.  He was 30 years human when she and I first met him in August of 1952.  I flew to New York a few days later, and Coraline took it upon herself to seduce Mick. 

She has a habit of doing that to any man she can get her claws into. 

She and Mick made each other crazy, but by December of 1952, he asked her to marry him.  On the evening of December 5th, after getting married by a justice of the peace, Mick and Coraline retired to a hotel room and made love as husband and wife.

Everything would have been fine if Coraline hadn’t taken it upon herself to turn him in the middle of their lovemaking, without warning him or asking his permission. 

Hell, at that point he didn’t even know vampires were real.  The next morning, he woke up with a terrible thirst no amount of water could quench and learned that the things that go bump in the night weren’t just scary stories told to children.

And thus, began the love-hate on again-off again relationship Mick and Coraline had until one night in January of 1985 when Mick discovered she’d kidnapped a little girl to turn so she could start a family with Mick.

That little girl became the woman standing before me.

Mick rescued her and believed he had set his maker on fire and killed her once and for all.

He returned a shaken but physically unharmed Beth to her teary-eyed mother and then began stalking her.

In my capacity as Sheriff of California’s Area Two, otherwise known as Los Angeles County, I instructed Mick, the area investigator, to keep an eye on Beth.  While she was far too young to safely glamour, there was a genuine chance she had seen more than she should have.

Despite what the rumor mill might say, I’m not really a monster, so I wouldn’t have offered to harm her if she had known of our existence.  Instead, I would have encouraged Mick to foster the kind of friendship and trust they currently have back when she was still a child so she would be loyal to us from the start.

Fortunately for all involved, Beth repressed the whole kidnapping.  All she remembered was that a scary woman in a white dress took her and an angel in a leather jacket saved her.

Beth resumed her life, and Mick became a certifiable stalker.  Honestly, he took it farther than I ever intended.  Once he learned she didn’t remember anything, he could have just periodically checked in to make sure her memories hadn’t resurfaced, but no, my best friend started following her everywhere.

It proved fortuitous, due to Beth’s aforementioned knack for getting into jams, but like I said, I’m sure she would have survived on her own.  She’s resilient and tenacious like that, which brings me back to the matter at hand.  She knew I would resort to killing this scumbag and she still chose to ask me to handle it instead of Mick all because she’s loyal and wants to pay Mick back for all the times he helped her.

I lower my voice and ask, “And you’re returning the favor?”

She jerks her head up and down twice but whispers, “Just don’t tell him we’re doing this—”

So, she knows Mick won’t approve, and she still came to me?

Okay, it’s not often I find myself respecting a human, but lately the few times it’s happened it’s been Beth, so I nod and interrupt her, “I can keep a secret.”

She releases a heavy sigh and nods again, so I lay the photos on her island and step around her, heading for the door.  About halfway there I stop and turn to face her and tell her a hard truth she has needed to hear, “As long as you’re involved with Mick, and you work at Buzzwire, his secret will always be in danger.”

Mick should have been the one to tell her that, but he’s too soft and too interested in not hurting her feelings to pro-actively protect himself.  The result is that I now need to hunt down and kill Dean Foster and remove the threat he presents.

Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t object, and I turn and stride out of her apartment to deal with this Foster mess.

I run through my possibilities while I drive and when I pull my cherry red Ferrari into my reserved spot in the parking garage at Josef Kostan Industries, I’m closer to having a solution in mind.

After I get out of my car, I stroll towards the elevators.  I could just have someone glamour Foster into forgetting Mick even exists, but it’s been my experience that the greedier a person is, the more predisposed they are to eventually breaking a glamour or at least bending it. 

That means my best option is doing what I implied I’d do and remove Foster from the equation entirely. 

I step into the elevator and scratch my chin.  Now, who are my best options for ending Dean Foster and wiping him from the face of the earth?

Mick mentioned running into two teenage vampires posing as paparazzi so they might be able to get to my target more efficiently than anyone else could.

When the elevator reaches my floor, I step out into the lobby for Josef Kostan Industries.  Approaching the front desk, I nod toward my second-in-command, Vincent, who poses as my personal assistant most of the time.

He hands me a stack of papers and says, “The top page is a list of messages, and the rest is the paperwork you requested.”

I smile and glance at the pile before saying, “Thank you.  I’ll be in my office, but I’d rather not be disturbed unless absolutely necessary.”

He nods, “Yes, Sire.”

I turn and walk towards my office.  Well, it’s not really an office at this point.  It’s just a shell after a firebomb tore through it.  My decorator assures me that the remodel will be complete by this time next week.  In the meantime, my desk and chair are the only furniture in the room.

I stride over to my chair and turn it, so the back is facing the desk and sit down staring out at the L.A. Skyline.  Taking my phone out of my pocket I scroll through the folder of all my city’s vampires until I find Clint Copeland’s entry.

I press send and then listen to it ring three times before it picks up, and he says, “‘Sup?”

I hold in a chuckle and speaking below humanly audible levels in the ancient vampire language, on the off chance a human is listening, I say, “Mr. Copeland this is Sheriff Kostan.”

He also speaks below humanly audible levels and in the same language says, “Shit.”

There’s rustling and then some murmuring that even my sensitive ears can’t make out and then he says, “Sorry, Sheriff, what can I do for you?”

I frown and tell him, “I have a little problem by the name of Dean Foster that I need taken care of—”

He interrupts me and says, “You mean an obsessive, fat fuck of a problem.  You want him glamoured or taken care of in a more permanent way?”

I smile then, and there is nothing nice about it, “He seems to have set his sights on Mick St. John and I do not believe glamouring will work, so I wish for you and your friend, Marshall Spanjers to remove him from the equation, permanently.”

He pauses, and I hear murmuring once more before he comes over the line again and says, “Do you know where St. John will be tonight, because if Dean is fixated on him now, then that’s where he’ll be tonight, and we can take care of it for you within a few hours.”

With a sigh, I rub the back of my neck and tell him, “Thank you.  I believe Mick plans to be at the Arbor Bistro at 8 p.m. with his human.  I don’t think I need to say this, but it’s best that neither of them knows you’re there or that Foster has been neutralized.”

He chuckles and says, “No problem Sheriff.  Marshall and I have been making a habit of blending into the shadows and not being seen for over a century now, so it shouldn’t be an issue.”

I lean back in my chair and tell him, “Good.  When you finish taking care of him, call the cleaners and have them clean it up.  Tell them to bill it to me personally and if they question you tell them to call me and verify that I’ve authorized the bill.  I will also compensate you both for your time and effort.  You can text me at this number when the job is complete, and I will make sure a suitable compensation is deposited into each of your accounts by the end of business on Friday.”

He says, “Will do.  And sheriff?  Thanks for thinking of us and giving us the excuse we need to remove that fuck-stain from the mortal coil.”

I grin and tell him, “You’re welcome,” and then I hang up.

I turn and place my phone on my desk and then sit back and just stare at the night skyline.

It’s been a busy couple of months, and I’m tired of all the drama.

First, Mick and Beth re-met last fall at the Design Center Fountain over a dead body with twin puncture marks in the victim’s neck.  Beth was on her first assignment for Buzzwire, an internet news site. 

They wound up working together to solve the murder, which involved a college professor, Christian Ellis, who fancied himself a vampire.  He’s not.  He’s just a human with delusions of grandeur. 

The murderer turned out to be the professor’s teacher’s assistant who felt Ellis was a prophet who was wasting his time and resources on sexing up his female students.  So, the T.A. began killing Ellis’ worshipers. 

He managed to kill two of them and tried to kill Beth, who was posing as a student to get close to Ellis.  Mick saved her, though, piquing Beth’s interest in him.

I sigh and kick out my feet in front of me because then there was Lee Jay Spalding, whom Mick had helped put in jail some 25 years prior for killing his second wife, who happened to be one of Mick’s clients.

What I didn’t know when the police arrested Lee Jay was that Mick attacked him and tried to drain him before the cops interrupted him.  He went to jail with the knowledge of what Mick was, and he stewed for 25 years.  When he got out, he had a well-thought-out plan to settle his score with Mick.

He set it up to look like Mick, whom everyone thought was the son of the man who helped put him away, had attacked him twice and the police issued an arrest warrant for Mick for attempted murder with a firearm enhancement.  That’s what they called it, an enhancement.

Mick turned to Beth for help, and they proved that Lee Jay was lying and had killed both of his wives.  However, when Mick confronted him, he was prepared for battle with a vampire and shot Mick with silver buckshot and then tried to set him on fire with a blow torch.  Fortunately for all involved, Beth didn’t listen to Mick when he told her to stay in the car, and she shot and killed Lee Jay, saving Mick.

Mick left the scene to go get some blood and heal while also avoiding the police, but Beth came after him and found him drinking blood straight from a bag, thus discovering the existence of vampires.

With a sigh, I sit forward and rest my elbows on my knees and watch a man in a building 800 yards away feed a toddler his dinner.  The little boy flings the spoonful of what looks to be mashed peas across the room, ripping a laugh from me.

Then I stop laughing because Beth is not the sort to leave things alone, though, so she showed up on Mick’s doorstep a few nights later and asked him if she really saw what she thought she saw.  He confirmed that vampires really do exist and turned Beth’s world upside down.

On that same night, a car hit one of my vampires, Gerald Stovsky, and he accidentally turned a passerby who tried to help him.  That good Samaritan was Dr. Jeffery Pollack, who without any guidance from his sire became feral and started killing people left and right. 

Beth and Mick teamed up again and figured out who he was. 

After Beth saved Mick for the second time when Stovsky staked him, and she learned that stakes only paralyze us, they ended Pollack and captured Stovsky, but not until after three humans lost their lives, four if you count Pollack.

I lean back again and put my hands behind my head with my elbows sticking out on either side of my head.  Next came Mick’s sojourn into the desert.  Beth’s boyfriend, Joshua Lindsey, was the Deputy District Attorney.  Two police officers died, and a witness went missing because of a leak in his office. 

He asked Mick to track down the witness and make sure she made it to court on time.

Of course, the witness was a 22-year-old young woman who had witnessed an arms dealer, Amir Fayed, kill her boyfriend.

Fayed hired an assassin to kill the girl, and Mick almost got himself blown up protecting her.  

Despite avoiding the missile that blew up their vehicle, Mick found himself stranded in the middle of the desert during the day with no shelter in sight. 

The excessive exposure to sunlight nearly killed Mick and only Beth’s insistence that he feed from her saved him.  I owe her a great debt for saving my stubborn best friend despite his staunch protests.

Inhaling deeply, I then release it slowly through my nose because Mick, being Mick, spent a week avoiding her because in his head feeding on her makes him a monster.  It’s probably why he only feeds on the blood of corpses.  Either way, before that night he hadn’t live fed since he returned a four-year-old Beth to her mother in 1985.

Beth cornered him, however accidental it might have been, and got him to work with her on a case involving a serial killer who targeted escorts.  Luke Mineo was a 197-year-old vampire who turned at 16 and found himself stuck in puberty forever, so he resorted to taking out his anger on the prostitute who turned him by killing working girls.

I grin and massage the back of my neck with one hand.  That’s the case that allowed me to meet Beth in person.  She came to my office and helped us track Mineo to a bar on the boardwalk.

Mick and Beth saved the girl Mineo kidnapped, and my infatuation with Beth began, though, I didn’t resort to stalking her like someone else I know.

Now I frown.  Part of my not becoming her second stalker might have been because my sometimes lover, the vampire known to her friends simply as Lola, was keeping me preoccupied. 

Lola borrowed a million dollars from me and then disappeared, so I asked Mick to look for her.  It’s a lucky thing I did, too, because it turns out the ancient Lola was hunting her own kind and draining them to create a designer drug that was also killing some of the humans who were taking it. 

Lola used the money I lent her to buy a metric ton of silver and used it to incapacitate the vampires, so she could drain them.  That way she wouldn’t lose any blood like she would if she staked them.  Using silver was a problem, though, because that meant the silver saturated their blood and too much silver will kill humans, too.

Mick and Beth once again teamed up and managed to stop Lola before the humans could discover our existence. 

Luck was on Mick’s side because Lola was so arrogant she never considered him a viable threat and that allowed him to kill her when he wouldn’t ordinarily have been able to because she was the oldest vampire I have ever met, and I’ve met one that is over 10,000 years old.  Lola was even older, though how much older will forever remain a mystery.

I release a jarring breath.  I thought after Lola died that maybe we’d get a break from all the drama but that’s when Coraline returned to our lives posing as the human photojournalist, Morgan Vincent.

Apparently, Coraline’s grandsire, a distant relative of Louis XIV of France, helped create a compound from a now extinct cousin of the orchid that would turn a vampire temporarily mortal.  The DuVall family created it during France’s Reign of Terror, which was a vampire genocide.

I guess Coraline stole some of the compound and turned herself mortal before insinuating herself into Beth’s life by utilizing her need for photos for her news stories.

When Mick met Morgan, he was convinced she was Coraline come back to haunt him.  Mick and Beth wound up investigating a murder that took place during a fire at the Franklin Hotel that perfectly mimicked how Mick killed Coraline.

What’s-more the murderer turned out to be a vampire, which just led Mick to believe Morgan really was Coraline, but when he tried to prove it was her by revealing a brand she had on her shoulder it wasn’t there.  That caused him to doubt himself and believe that Morgan was just a human who strangely resembled his dead vampire wife.

I sit forward again and rest my elbows on my knees with my hands resting between my spread knees.  I thought after Mick attacked Morgan trying to prove who she was that Beth might distance herself from Mick, but she didn’t.  Instead, when someone began stalking and harassing a young woman who had witnessed her family’s murder at the hand of a cult leader, Beth turned to Mick to protect the girl.

I frown again because that wound up being a strange case.  One of my vampires was actually stupid enough to turn the cult leader before his execution thus allowing him to go on another killing spree, seeking vengeance on all those he felt had wronged him while the human authorities believed him to be dead already.

Mick managed to kill him, but in the process of tracking him down, Beth discovered that Mick was her guardian angel who had rescued her from her kidnapper, Coraline, when she was little.

I push down the urge to go make sure Beth is alright and remind myself that although Beth’s discovery led to her questioning whether Morgan was really Coraline and her stalking Morgan, Beth is safe.

Mick helped Beth’s cause by distracting Morgan with a case that he needed a photographer to work with him on. 

In the end, Mick and Beth both independently confirmed that Morgan was, in fact, Coraline, but Beth thought she was a vampire, so she tried to stake her and instead almost killed her because Coraline really was human.

I surge to my feet and begin pacing back and forth.  That same night was poker night.  Mick didn’t show up because of his case and Morgan turning out to be Coraline, but Tim, Dan, and I still met at my office for our weekly game.

During the game, a man broke in and shot up the place before tossing grenades into my office and trying to burn us up.

I managed to grab Tim and Dan and use the broken windows caused by the flying bullets to jump out of the window to the ground 77 floors below before the explosion could incinerate us with the rest of my office. 

Frowning again, I rub at the back of my neck while I continue to pace.  At Grand Central Station, in May of 1954, I met a young woman named Sarah Whitley.  In the following year, we fell in love with each other, and I discovered that she knew my secret, but she didn’t care.  She loved me anyway and wanted to be with me forever.

I didn’t feel the mystical pull to make her my childe, but I still reluctantly agreed to turn her.  I drained her and fed her my blood, but she never woke up.  She got lost somewhere in between.

To her loved ones she just vanished, and when her father found her journals after her mother died, he discovered I was a vampire.

He sent the assassin that burned up my office, and I wound up having to fly to New York and glamour Mr. Whitley into forgetting I ever existed.

I huff out a massive, yet relieved breath.  Beth and Mick followed me to New York and discovered Sarah’s existence and saved me one final time from the assassin before Mick killed him.

Mick and Beth went home to L.A., and I stayed behind.  I glamoured Sarah’s 93-year-old father, even though ordinarily I would have killed him because he’s stubborn enough to resist a long-term glamour.  Mr. Whitley’s dying, though, and based on his scent and the rhythm of his heartbeat and sound of his lungs I’d say he won’t make it to April first.  I’m powerful enough that my glamour should last at least a year despite his stubborn streak, so I glamoured him out of respect for Sarah, who would not appreciate me killing her father, even if he is near death anyway.

After I glamoured Mr. Whitley, I stayed and sat with my beloved for a few days.

I stop behind my desk and then lean against it with my legs stretched out in front of me and my hands clenching the edge of the desk on either side of me. 

I, too, came back to L.A. and then began the arduous process of not only explaining how I survived the attempt on my life but also of rebuilding my office.

I shiver despite not being cold because right after the new year, Deputy D.A. Lindsey tried to prosecute a gang leader who responded by trying to kill Beth.  Long story short, Beth survived, Mr. Lindsey did not.  Unfortunately, Beth witnessed the whole thing, and after unsuccessfully begging Mick to turn her boyfriend, she blamed Mick for his death.

She got over that, and it only took four days, which is remarkably quick all things considered, and in the meantime, Lance DuVall, Coraline’s brother, both by human _and_ vampire blood, came looking for Coraline, or more specifically he came looking for the compound she stole.

Eventually, Lance caught up to her but not before she used the compound to turn Mick human.  Mick got his human ass kicked by Lance, and Coraline sacrificed her freedom to save him, proving that perhaps she really does love him.

I reach up and rub the back of my neck again trying to loosen the tight muscles.  Last week, someone murdered Beth’s boss at Buzzwire, and human Mick tried to help Beth solve the mystery.  After I spent some time as their primary suspect, which was an exciting experience and a new one at that, the clues eventually led them to a plastic surgeon named Dr. Pierce Anders, who, it turned out, was a vampire who was siphoning off blood from his patients with rare blood types during their procedures. 

That habit cost at least two of them their lives when they suffered too much blood loss. 

Anders killed Beth’s boss because she was investigating the unrelated death of one of his patients and he feared she would discover his secret.

I give up on loosening the muscles in my neck and grip the desk again because Anders wound up kicking Mick’s temporarily mortal ass and kidnapping Beth and A.D.A. Benjamin Talbot. 

Mick talked me into turning him back into a vampire, which was a dream come true and curse all at once.  On the one hand, I initially felt the pull to turn Mick when I first met him in 1952, and I ignored it and by the time I realized what I had done Coraline had already turned him and it was too late.  On the other hand, being human again was the one thing Mick consistently wanted for 55 years, and I took it away from him, even if he did beg me and practically force me to do it by baring his throat to me during an emotionally charged conversation while he was in danger.  I’m not sure how long this guilt I have plaguing me will last, but I’m guessing it’s not going anywhere for a long, long time.

Anyway, after I turned Mick and breathed a sigh of relief that he woke up, unlike Sarah, we went to Anders’ lair to confront him.

His henchmen resisted and attacked us, and I killed one in self-defense, which is one of two acceptable reasons to kill another vampire, self-defense or the defense of our secret. 

Mick staked the other henchman, and then he staked Anders, and I thought everything was fine until Mick took out his machete and sliced off Anders’ head.  I actually dropped my phone, which I had in my hand to call Vincent and have him pick up Anders and his goon so they could stand trial for their crimes when Mick shocked the hell out of me and murdered Anders in cold blood.

Now, a week later, I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop because killing a vampire for personal reasons is a big no-no.

As if my maker, the Magister of North America, Jorge Alonso de San Diego, heard my thoughts, my phone beeps at me.

I pick it up off the desk beside me and open the message.

Fuck.  It’s in the same ancient vampire language I used with Mr. Copeland.  It’s so old it doesn’t have a name.

The use of the language, though, means this message is official vampire business.  I sigh while I read, “The Honorable Magister of North America, Jorge Alonso de San Diego, commands you, Josef Shamas Talal Konstantin, to appear before a tribunal with your childe, Mick Randall St. John, to answer for the unlawful death of Dr. Pierce Anders.  Appear on Wednesday, January 30, 2008, at 8:00 p.m. at the warehouse on Kepler Avenue.  Failure to appear will result in further action taken against you and is ill-advised.”

Ill-advised indeed.  Running is never a good idea.  It only serves to further anger my maker.  Besides, this is the first time I’ve participated in a crime so I won’t lose my life.  I’ll just suffer some other form of punishment.  Now, whether I’ll be wishing for death at some point is another thing entirely, but Mick and I won’t lose our lives over this.

Crap, Beth might lose her life as a result, or at least her human life.  I’ll have to figure out a way to make my sire see that turning her is the best option.

I sigh and rub my neck again.  Mick will hate the idea of Beth turning, but that might make it more palatable to Jorge, who despises Mick on principle alone.

Now the question is, how much notice do I give Mick about our needing to appear before my sire?

Less is probably more, so I’ll tell him on Monday, which will give him two days to mentally prepare himself without his stupidity and stubbornness tempting him to take Beth and flee.

I put my phone back on my desk and spend an hour staring out at the twinkling lights of the L.A. skyline and praying that Mick will cooperate enough to keep Beth from dying a permanent death.


	2. Crime and Punishment

****

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Chapter 002**

**Crime and Punishment**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Wednesday, January 30, 2008; 7:00 p.m. PST**

**Josef’s Limo, Los Angeles, California**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

To put it simply, any way you look at this situation, my best friend, Mick St. John, and I are screwed.  Anders may have been a reckless vampire who risked humans asking the wrong questions and possibly discovering our existence before we’re ready for it, but his maker, Terrance Martin, cares for him.  In fact, he cares enough that he took exception to Mick and I killing his childe and filed a formal complaint with the North American Magister.

Right now, we’re in the back of my limo driving to one of my warehouses in downtown Los Angeles where we will stand trial for the unlawful death of a fellow vampire.

As such, life as Mick and I know it is probably over, or it will be after tonight.  The test our friendship is about to experience will stretch it to its limits, and if Mick doesn’t control himself, we may not be the only ones who undergo a life-altering night.

Mick is Mick, though, and he’s about as dense and as stuck in his ways as they come when he chooses to be.  That means that although he’s pissed off about tonight, I’m reasonably sure he doesn’t completely understand the gravity of the situation or the fact that it’s not just our comfort and friendship at stake here.  Lives are at stake, or I should say one life, in particular, is at stake.  Tonight’s outcome could irrevocably alter that one life if Mick and I don’t play this the right way.

I sink into my plush leather seat in the back of my limo, and after straightening my blue and black spotted tie, I take a long hard look at my two companions.  Vincent, my second-in-command, slouches in his seat to the right of me, though, even lounging it’s obvious he’s a big guy.  He’s well-muscled due to having been a farmer when I found him, and he’s about an inch or two shy of my six feet.

His slicked-back brown hair that’s darker than mine and almost black is longer on the top but neat and tight around his ears, and his olive complexion still appears olive despite his being a vampire.  He’s wearing a chestnut brown silk suit with a cream-colored dress shirt and an orange, cream, and brown paisley tie.

Underneath that suit, his limbs are loose, his brown eyes stay closed, while his face is smooth of any lines.  If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s asleep, but I know he’s just meditating to prepare himself for what’s to come.

Mick, on the other hand, is sitting across from me staring at the carpet in his usual dark clothes and messy long brown hair that curls around his ears and shoulders.  Tonight, his outfit is a blue and black striped dress shirt with the first two buttons left open and dark wash blue jeans.  He’s also got his typical big belt buckle and three-quarter length midnight blue jacket on.

Beyond their styles being polar opposites, Mick’s body language is also the exact opposite of Vincent’s.  His pale complexion has a barely perceptible pink hue to it that I think is an indication of his upset, not his having eaten recently because let’s face it the blood from dead bodies that he consumes regularly does not give a vampire the proper nutrition they need.  Therefore, Mick is almost always paler than he would typically be if he ate fresh blood from the vein instead of the blood of corpses from bags, so any pink to his skin is probably from anger, not a proper diet.

He furrows his brow over his narrowed cerulean blue eyes causing deep wrinkles to appear on his forehead.  His jaw ticks every couple of seconds while he clenches it and the faint grinding of his teeth echoes in my sensitive ears like fingernails to a chalkboard.  His back is ramrod straight, and even though his elbows are resting on his knees, he’s tightly clasping his hands together in front of him.  His limbs are tight coils underneath his jacket as if at any moment he’ll spring from his seat like a jack-in-the-box and flee the confines of my fully equipped limo.

Hmm, maybe he does understand the severity of our situation.  He needs to loosen up either way, or he’s likely to lose his cool and cause more harm than we can afford.  Therefore, I sit forward and utilize the fully stocked part of the vehicle and lift one of the crystal decanters from its cubby in the sideboard before pouring Mick and myself a little more than two fingers each of my finest Single Malt Scotch.  The heavy weight of the crystal glass in my hand helps ground me before I give the drink to Mick who barely acknowledges that I've placed it in his hand.

No matter how much a stiff drink will help him right now, I refuse to spoon feed him.  I inhale the aroma of the Whisky and then allow my fangs to descend enough to suck in a sip of my drink, enjoying the burn in my fangs as it goes down, before sitting back again and leaning my head against the headrest. I’m almost inclined to grind _my_ teeth because there isn’t much I hate in this world more than uncertainty, and this whole situation is ripe with it.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how things develop, the Magister for North America also happens to be my maker, Jorge Alonso de San Diego.  That might work in our favor, or it could make matters all the worse.

The silence in the back of the limo is thick, and although I’m reluctant to break the tense peace, after taking a liberal suck of my drink, I clear my throat and tell Mick, “The way I see it, this whole thing will play out one of two ways.  One option is my maker could slap us on the wrist because I’m his, and this is the first time I’ve done something stupid like this in the 5,383 years since he turned me.  The other option is he could take exception to his favored childe breaking our number one sacred law, and he’ll teach us a lesson we’ll never forget.”

Ultimately, either option might work in our favor in the long run, and from where I’m sitting I can’t tell which possibility I should be praying for.

Mick just sits there without moving or saying anything, so I continue trying to prepare him for what’s to come by telling him, “Usually, Jorge is the embodiment of a Big Man with a Gun.  Goddess, I can hear that song in my head on a loop right now.”

Mick raises his wide sky-blue eyes from their inspection of the carpet and meets my dark topaz eyes for the first time since he got in the car before he asks, “How is a song playing on a loop in your head at all relevant to our situation, Josef?”

Laughing despite the gravity of our future predicament, I tell him, “It’s relevant because the first time I heard the Nine Inch Nails song in 1994, I quickly decided that it was probably written by and about someone just like my maker.  He lives to hold power over others, and he’ll fuck you over just because he can if the mood strikes him _and_ he’ll have fun doing it.  He is an expert at reducing his enemies or anyone who misbehaves, and he’s been known to devour those who displease him in the most frightful of ways.”

Mick barely shrugs one shoulder and returns his eyes to the carpet, so I say, “He’s possibly among the 15 oldest creatures walking the earth, _and_ at approximately 7,545 years old, he’s definitely the oldest Magister in the world by more than 3,250 years and, therefore, the most powerful.”

I scratch the back of my neck and then tell him, “Of course, I’m almost 5,408 years old, so _I’m_ also older than all of the other Magisters in the world, too, but, still, my maker is the oldest and most powerful Magister, and few in existence are older or more powerful than him.  In fact, outside those eight vampires who comprise the power structure in the Authority, my maker is the most powerful supernatural in the world.”

I stop and stare at Mick for a minute.  I really look at him, and he’s just glaring at the floor studiously ignoring the looming disaster heading towards us at full throttle, or trying to, anyway.  I usually play my family ties close to the vest, even with Mick, but he needs to understand that no one will lift a finger to stop my maker from doing whatever he pleases.  I let out a heavy breath, absolute truths are going to be the thing tonight, I think, so I tell him, “Maybe even including some of the Authority because, little-known fact, the vampire at the top of the Authority, Roman Zimojic, is my sire’s maker.  So, Jorge has the ear and respect of the absolute most powerful supernatural in the world.  Furthermore, Roman will back whatever play my sire makes.  He has full faith in him to do what needs doing, and he won’t interfere.”

Mick’s jaw hangs open a bit after he gasps at that news before he slowly raises his eyes to meet mine again.  They are wide and slightly dazed when he asks, “ _The Guardian_ is your grandsire?”

I pull in a deep breath and tell him, “He is, so my maker has the power and leave to do or order whatever he wishes, _and_ he knows it.  The rest of the supernatural world knows it too, and anyone with any amount of smarts does his or her best to avoid getting on his bad side.  We, in all our infinite wisdom, have found ourselves defendants in my maker’s court and to be fair, we belong there.  We broke the law, and I knew we were committing a crime when you killed Anders.  Ultimately, we deserve whatever my sire throws at us.”

Mick furrows his brow and presses his lips together before telling me the same thing he’s been parroting since I told him about the summons to appear before my maker, “Anders was a threat to humans Josef.  He needed to be ended.”

I cross my arms and narrow my eyes before telling him what _I’ve_ been saying since he started in with this ‘Anders needed to be ended’ bullshit, “I am the Sheriff of Area Two, Mick.  That means I could have ordered Anders to hand Beth and A.D.A. Talbot over to me and then ordered him to stop siphoning blood from his plastic surgery patients without their knowledge or consent during their procedures.  What he was doing risked the humans discovering us before our scheduled revelation.  We would have been on the defensive instead of the offensive if humans had discovered, so it _was_ reckless _and_ dangerous, but it did _not_ warrant his death, and _no_ the fact that he kicked your temporarily mortal ass and had your human in his possession aren’t even close to good enough excuses.”

Sighing, I run my hand through my hair because now Mick is pouting, and he’s hunched in on himself, so I’m reasonably sure he’s not going to listen to anything else I have to say.  He needs to know what we’re dealing with, though, so I tell him, “Moving along, I’ve known my maker for 5,397 years give or take a decade or two, but he didn’t turn me until I was 26-years-old just under 5,383 years ago.  As you may or may not know from his frequent visits, we’ve remained close through the years so despite his usual habit of devouring everything that displeases him I have high hopes for how this will play out.”

Pausing, I glance at Mick, and his hand not holding his untouched glass of Whisky keeps curling into a fist and then straightening out again.  His back has gotten even straighter than before, and his muscles are so tense he almost has a sense of vibration about him while he sits there, so I add, “Well, that is if _you_ don’t lose your cool and antagonize my maker.”

He huffs at that, and I know beyond a doubt that the chances are rather high that Mick will lose his shit because another thing my maker thoroughly excels at is evaluating his opponents’ weaknesses and then exploiting them as much as possible.

I kick my feet out in front of me and with my hand not holding my Scotch I rub the back of my neck before I tell him, “I’ve stayed in touch with Jorge, speaking with him multiple times every week, sometimes close to every day.  I bounce ideas off him because the man is a genius when it comes to both strategies and seeing the bigger picture.  What you need to know right now is that I know he keeps tabs on what I do in between our visits every few months because during our near daily phone conversations he’ll ask me questions about things that I haven’t mentioned to him.”

Running my hand through my hair again, I release a heavy sigh and then tell him, “In all my years, I’ve never figured out who his source or sources are, but they’re immensely thorough.  Because you’re my best friend, and we see each other daily, my maker knows all about you and your history.”

I scratch my ear and tell him, “He knows enough of all of your details including everything regarding Coraline and you trying to kill her.  So much so that Jorge now uses that event as his example of why one should always behead a vampire rather than using the less reliable fire to do the job.”

Mick doesn’t move a muscle and just stares at the carpet, so I resist the urge to smack a reaction out of him.  Instead, I tell him, “He knows everything, even that three weeks ago you became human for a time when you used the DuVall Family Compound.  He knows that I re-turned you nine days later, though admittedly I told him that part myself.  However, he was aware, without my having told him, that the only reason you allowed me to turn you back was that you feared Beth would die at Anders’ hands if you didn’t become a vampire again.  That means that without my input my maker is a 150% aware of the fact that your biggest and most vulnerable weakness answers to the name Beth.”

_That_ gets a response because Mick’s head jerks up when I repeat her name and his eyes narrow, so I hurry to continue before he explodes at me, “I have no doubt that my maker will use that extensive knowledge to extract a volatile response from you to allow him to punish you more harshly. You need to not react how you just did at the mention of Beth’s name, or he’ll know that’s the right button to push.  If you want all three of us to survive this tribunal, you need to play your cards close to the vest.  No lashing out when he suggests turning Beth because I guarantee that he _will_ suggest it just to piss you off, and he’ll just be blowing smoke up your ass to see if he can get a reaction from of you.  If you give him that reaction that he’s so desperately looking for, it won’t be smoke anymore, and he’ll use Beth to punish you.”

He’s not moving so I ask, “Are you listening, Mick?  You need to school your features and not let him know that you want Beth to stay human.  The moment he discovers that her _human_ life is valuable to you it will become forfeit.”

He shrugs almost imperceptibly, so I tell him, “I’m not sure that Jorge has ever had a shy bone in his body, so I’m acutely aware of my maker’s extreme disapproval of not only my relationship with you but you all by yourself.  My sire often expresses his disdain over me being best friends with a vampire who hates what he is, and if I had a penny every time he’s asked me how I became so attached to you, I could stop investing and live off that indefinitely.  Of course, I’ve explained that you weren’t always this way, but he has no patience for the tortured soul type, and let’s face it, you currently play that part to a T, so you need to keep your cool and mind your tongue.  Let me do all the talking unless he asks you a direct question, okay?”

He doesn’t reply or even raise his glance from the carpet, so I tell him, “Jorge has meticulously researched you, filling in any blanks he didn’t already know the answers to and will do everything in his considerable power to push every single one of your many buttons until he gets a negative response.  Don’t give him what he’s looking for and we’ll all walk away from this relatively unscathed.”

I’m 99% sure Mick is only half listening, so I’m preparing myself to have to negotiate on Mick’s behalf.  Depending on Mick’s behavior I might need to negotiate on Beth’s behalf too.  While I knew better than to allow Mick to kill Anders, I know my maker well enough to know he thinks that Mick instigates and encourages my poor behavior, which is, in fact, correct when you get down to it.

Anders kidnapped Beth and A.D.A. Talbot because they had discovered that he was siphoning blood off his patients during their procedures, and he knew he needed to cover his tracks or find himself in trouble with my maker.  I could have, no, I should have used my position as his sheriff to get Beth and Talbot back, and I should have prevented Mick from venting his anger and frustration by chopping off Anders’ head after we had already rescued Beth and Talbot.

In my defense, I wasn’t expecting him to do that, so I wasn’t watching for signs, but I’ve known and called Mick my best friend for nearly 53 years, so I should have known what he was going to do before he did it and taken steps to prevent it.

Jorge believes I have an unhealthy attachment to Mick and that he is a terrible influence, so I warn him, “As I said, Jorge doesn’t approve of our friendship so prepare yourself.  You and I might suffer a forcible separation for a time.  The length of that separation will be determined by how much we _and_ the defendants that stand trial before us manage to piss my maker off while we’re there.”

Mick barely shrugs again just before the limo comes to a stop behind one of my warehouses in the warehouse district of downtown Los Angeles.

I stay seated and take a deep breath before telling him, “Remember, keep your poker face on at all times as soon as you get out of this car.  Any cracks in your facade that let him know he’s getting to you will only end in disaster for all of us, but most notably Beth.”

He grunts as a way of showing he understands, so I open my door and exit the vehicle.  Mick and Vincent follow me.  I straighten my navy-blue suit and night sky blue and grey striped dress shirt, and black and blue spotted tie before turning to Vincent and telling him, “Make sure everything’s ready.  If I know my Maker, he’s already inside and not being prepared for him will piss him off.”

Vincent beams at me despite the situation and tells me, “Relax, Sire, I know how my grandsire is, so I came by earlier and made sure everything is ready for him.  I had the prisoners we had in custody brought down here, too, and they should already be inside.”

I’m not sure how I survived without Vincent before I met him 4,279 years ago, give or take.  I turned him three years later, and he continues to prove his usefulness and importance in my life.  I pat his shoulder as a silent thank you before I lead the way into the building where I discover that everything is, in fact, ready, just like Vincent said it is.

I spend the next two hours watching and listening while my maker deals with everyone else who has committed crimes.  Apparently, he’s saving us for last.  I’m not sure if that’s a positive or a negative thing, probably negative because I can sense Mick getting tenser and tenser and much more likely to explode with every second that passes while we watch my maker hand down verdicts.

The dim light inside the warehouse can’t hide the dusty floor or the stacks of pallets with boxes piled onto them from my sensitive eyes.  My maker is sitting before the assembled crowd on a green lawn chair atop a surprisingly stable row of pallets.  The chair might as well be the most regal of thrones for all the grace and poise with which my sire is displaying while sitting in the metal and plastic seat.

Jorge’s salt and pepper close cut hair, despite his eternal receding hairline, only seems to add to his regal appearance.  He’s short, shorter than my six feet by at least four or five inches, so he counters his modest physical stature by presenting a regal appearance, which he usually does by wearing one of his standard $2,000 suits.

Tonight’s suit is a light grey pinstriped masterpiece and his lavender, grey, and black paisley tie sets off the starkness of his crisp white dress shirt underneath.  His sky grey-blue eyes are surveying everyone in attendance even while they occasionally narrow when one of the defendants says something he disagrees with.

The acrid stench of dead blood fills the already dank space because my maker is having fun ordering the fangs pulled from almost every single defendant he’s tried tonight.  The crowd full of perhaps 250 of my area’s 5,680 vampires are loving every minute of it, too, if their cheers and catcalls are any indication.

I move to block a stupid vampire who tries to flee after my maker declares the vampire’s fangs pulled.  Vincent hands me a stake about the same time the vampire turns my way, and I barely take two steps before I’ve got the stake embedded in his chest, effectively paralyzing him until we remove the stake.

I once again thank our lucky stars that modern mythology got the whole bit about a stake in the heart killing us wrong.  That mistaken belief has saved more than a few of us through the years because even if we have a stake in our chest, our friends or sire can come and dig us up and pull out the stake.

Of course, some humans are of the same mind as my maker when it comes to killing vampires, so they make sure they finish the job by chopping off our heads, but more often than not only a few most thorough humans have managed to permanently end us.

I make steady eye contact with Luisa, my maker’s lead enforcer, who also moved to take care of the vampire.  Her lip lifts on one side in acknowledgment, and a hint of her fang peeks through before she then drags the idiot back into the center of the half circle created by the crowd.

As Sheriff of California’s Area Two, which includes all of Los Angeles County, I’ve testified against several of tonight’s defendants.  Most of them, like the idiot I just staked, fed off another vampire’s human, which is a big no-no. Unless you feel a mystical compulsion to turn someone, you don’t touch another supernatural’s property without that supe’s prior consent, _and_ you get consent _every time_.

If by chance you meet another vampire’s human and you feel a mystical connection to them that indicates that they should be your childe, then you negotiate with the other supernatural to make the human yours instead of theirs before you touch them.  That said, you _never_ just take, and most supernaturals who poach do it for the blood not to turn a childe.  They want the tastier blood, so they steal from those who already have it.

My maker has a tremendously low tolerance for poachers and has been expressing his displeasure with these thieves quite a bit.  However, he has given no sign during our interactions this evening that he’s angry with _me_.

Like I said, he’s been pulling a lot of fangs today, but that’s a favorite punishment of his, so I’m pretty sure he’s in a decent mood, which may also work in our favor.  Of course, the fact that his childe is standing before him charged with committing one of the most severe crimes a supernatural can commit might ruin _his_ good mood enough to ruin _my_ nervous yet relatively good mood.

The phantom feel of sweaty palms haunts me even though I haven’t perspired in more than 5,380 years.  When the idiot, who was the last of the other defendants, has had his fangs pulled and is in a coffin for a year for trying to run, it’s clear that it’s our turn now.

My gut clenches, and I resist the urge to wipe my dry palms on my pants before sending up a small prayer, “Please let Beth survive Mick’s and my epic stupidity.”

Jorge crosses one leg over the other while he sits on his metal and plastic throne and after glancing at his phone, he says, “Josef Kostan, Sheriff of California’s Area Two and my favored childe, I was surprised to see your name on my list.  In all the years since I turned you, you have never broken any of our laws, but especially this one.  In fact, your propensity for obeying our laws is part of why none of us in power objected to your appointment as Sheriff even though you were a vampire for a mere 378 years at the time.  No sheriff before or since has been so young.  Since your initial appointment, you have been a sheriff for six different royals and except for perhaps a combined total of one century’s worth of breaks you have spent the better part of 5,000 years acting as a sheriff somewhere in the world.  You are currently the sheriff of the second largest area in North America.  You have held this position in what is now California since 1689 and although you briefly took a break from your duties between August of 1952 and early June of 1955 your king has been most pleased with your service.”

Okay, he just publicly claimed me as his _and_ reminded the room that not only am I the local Sheriff but that I’ve been a sheriff longer than most vampires have existed.  He also just called attention to the fact that all my previous royals _and_ my current king are happy with me and my performance as their sheriff.

It’s a struggle to keep my grin from showing on my face because he wouldn’t have done any of those things without pointing out everyone else’s stupidity in allowing me to become the youngest sheriff ever if he was going to ask for our heads on a silver platter.  Smiling in this situation, though, could piss him off just enough to change his mind on that matter.

The charge is serious, though, so when he says, “And yet, you helped your childe, Mick St. John, kill a fellow vampire, Pierce Anders.  What do you have to say for yourself, Childe?”

The best bet when you commit a crime and stand before my maker is to fall on your sword and beg forgiveness.  He gets off on that, so I open my mouth to tell him there is no excuse, but Mick steps in front of me and says, “Anders killed several humans and had two more held hostage.  We had to stop him.”

Pissing Jorge off is a dangerous past time.  His narrowed eyes and stiffening spine, not to mention that small vein on his forehead pulsing in time with his vampire slow heartbeat _and_ the fact that his grip on the rickety arms of his lawn chair throne tightened for a millisecond before relaxing tell me that Mick has done just that with minimal effort.

My maker leans forward just a bit, and he and his throne kind of wobble atop the pallets, but he seems entirely unruffled by his possibly precarious position on top of a pile of boxes.  That’s confirmed when my sire makes no move to change his stance and says in his overly calm and ice-cold tone of voice, “I asked _your Sire_ a question, not you.  You would do well to mind your tongue and let your maker do all the talking.  As for the humans involved in this case, a human life is of no consequence to our kind.”

He sits back on his makeshift throne, and his face and gaze lack any warmth when he tells us, “I’ve read reports that indicate that every day more than 350,000 humans are born.  The birth rate is twice the death rate per second.  Therefore, when one of them dies another two are born to take its place.”

He pauses a moment and then says, “Our kind is not so fortunate, which is why it is forbidden to kill vampires who haven’t committed the most heinous of crimes against their own kind.”

He turns his face and stares at me before asking, “Josef, I have to say, I’m surprised and not impressed at all that you went along with this.”

I shift my feet somewhat, and after respectfully lowering my eyes I tell him, “I know Sire.  I wouldn’t normally have done it, but _my_ childe would have died if I hadn’t gone and helped.”

Jorge scowls at Mick and says, “I’d ask you why you didn’t just order him to stand down, but I’ve known you both long enough to know your hands were tied because St. John _never_ listens to advice _or_ the direct orders from his elders.”

Terrance Martin, Anders’ bereft Sire, steps forward and taking a calculated risk by possibly angering my maker asks the room at large, “Has Kostan released his childe?  He could have Commanded St. John to stand down.”

While everyone begins whispering, I close my eyes for a brief second.  That’s the one point that I wanted to keep under wraps because Martin’s right.  After I open my eyes, I meet my sire’s narrowed gaze and shuffle my feet before telling him the truth, “I haven’t released him.”

I had only been Mick’s sire for mere minutes at the time, so I didn’t think of Commanding him, but much to my chagrin Martin is correct.  That’s precisely what I should have done.  I should have Commanded Mick to stand down and then gone and ordered Anders to release Beth and A.D.A. Talbot into my custody.  Given my age versus his _and_ the fact that I was his sheriff, I doubt Anders would have disobeyed.

Jorge's lips tilt a fraction upward like he has a secret and that it’s going to be a game changer.  Nodding towards Mick, he smirks and says, “Josef, Command your childe to jump up and down until I tell you he may stop.  St. John, resist if possible.”

Umm, okay, I have no clue where he’s going with this, but I obey and tell Mick, “Childe, I Command you as your Maker to jump up and down until my sire tells us you may stop.”

Mick just stands there, not jumping.  We wait five solid minutes, and when it’s clear that Mick isn’t suffering from disobeying my Command, Jorge laughs and tells us, “It’s as I suspected.  I’ve known three others who took the DuVall compound and became human for a time and then re-turned by having their blood drained and then drinking vampire blood instead of dying naturally and re-turning that way.  All three of them had no connection to either of their Makers after the fact.  Neither the former sire nor the new one could Command the childe.  So, you see Martin, that wasn’t an option.”

Well, thank you, Sire, you just saved my ass.  I’ll have to think of something to do to make up for this disgrace that I’ve brought upon you and your line.

Unfortunately, this will likely place the brunt of the blame on Mick’s shoulders, which means my maker will be doing his best to find the most painful punishment for Mick.  While this new development likely saves my ass, it may cause Beth to be in even more danger than she was before.

The phantom clamminess on the palms of my hands returns, and I resist the urge to slump my shoulders, but then I do grimace when he says, “Still, Josef, you and your childe need to make some recompense.”

He stares at Mick, and when Jorge’s eyes narrow I brace myself.  This is it, the moment of truth, can Mick keep a straight poker face and save Beth’s human life?

A sneer spreads across my maker’s face, and there is nothing friendly about his countenance before he says, “Tell me about your human that you rescued from Anders.  Does she have some special gift that warrants protecting her, not that I think _any_ human life is worth that of a vampire.”

Mick takes a step towards my maker and raising his voice says with some force, “Beth is off limits.”

I have my answer now: Mick can’t keep a straight poker face even to save Beth’s human life.  My sire got the reaction he was looking for on the first try.

I glance heavenward and release a gust of air before I return my gaze to my obstinate best friend and ask him, “What did I tell you, Mick?”

Mick frowns at me and shrugs causing Jorge to laugh and ask, “Warned him that I’d be looking for that sort of reaction, did you?”

My maker taught me everything I know, well, all of the things of value anyway, so I smile despite the situation before telling him, “Of course, Sire.  You may have a job to do, but so do I.  I protect those that are mine to the best of my abilities, just as my maker taught me to do.”

Jorge chuckles again before saying, “You always were the perfect student.” That’s not entirely accurate because for close to the first six months of my vampire existence I was more like Mick than I’ll ever admit out loud to having been.

My sire continues and says, “Unfortunately, your childe is not following in your illustrious footsteps.  Now, I’m going to mostly overlook your involvement because I agree that St. John would have gotten himself killed if he had gone alone.  I know you and your sense of loyalty well enough to know that you would do whatever necessary to protect those you consider yours, even break the law.”

Jorge sighs and shakes his head slightly and then says, “While I regret that you have become attached to this pitiful excuse for a vampire, it is what it is.  Therefore, you really had no choice if you wanted to keep him alive because I think we can all agree that ordinarily, Anders, whom I believe was just under 400 years old, would have wiped the floor with St. John, who is a mere 85 years old.”

Most everyone murmurs about how easily Anders would have normally dealt with Mick.  Several vampires mention that my having re-turned him and my age made him stronger and faster than Anders, which is true.

My maker waits for the whispering to calm some and then after he steeples his fingers in front of himself he says, “So, we’re treating this as a wayward childe who killed a vampire to protect a human.  For our purposes in this part of the trial, we will ignore your involvement for the most part and then we’ll determine your punishment after his because if St. John had any propensity for following well-placed advice never mind orders from his betters, then you would never have had a hand in killing any vampire.  Tell me, Childe, does his human have any redeeming qualities?”

I clamp my hand on Mick’s shoulder when he opens his mouth, and after he turns his face to glare at me, I let loose a heavy breath and shake my head back and forth slowly.  He’s glowering, but he wisely chooses to keep his mouth shut, for the time being anyway.  We’ll see how long _that_ lasts.

I turn and meet Jorge’s gaze before saying, “She has no supernatural abilities that I am aware of, Sire, but she has an almost preternatural talent for sousing out the truth and solving mysteries.  She’s singlehandedly helped cut the time it takes Mick to investigate a case and solve it by more than half, and his solve rate rose at the same time.  The increase is enough that I’ve seriously considered offering her a job working for me as an in-house investigator.”

Jorge leans forward in his plastic throne and lifts an eyebrow before asking, “So she’d be a valuable vampire?”

Mick moves towards my maker at the same time he shouts, “No!”

I move vampire fast and stand between my sire and Mick, and after placing my hand on Mick’s chest to stop his forward movement, I meet his heated, yet narrowed gaze and tell him, “Control yourself, Mick, or you’ll get _all three of us_ killed.”

Okay, that’s a lie, I’m of Jorge’s line and now so is Mick, so it’s highly unlikely that he’ll kill either of us even if he doesn’t approve of Mick, which, for the record, he doesn’t like him at all.  However, just because he won’t be killing us doesn’t mean that what he _does_ won’t make us beg for death.  The man led the Inquisition, so he knows a thing or two about torture, and that doesn’t even take into account that Beth isn’t part of Jorge’s line, so all that stands between her, and her final death is Mick and me.

Mick doesn’t know that his being my childe and _my_ being Jorge’s childe will probably save our lives, but he does know that Beth’s life is still hanging in the balance, so I physically force myself to refrain from hitting Mick when he again opens his mouth to argue.

Raising my hand to forestall whatever stupid and ill-advised thing he is going to say, I tell him, “Keep quiet, Mick.  Whatever you’re going to say is just going to make my sire do the exact opposite of what you want him to do.  He’s the man with the power right now, and he wields that power any way _he_ sees fit.  He _will_ fuck us over without so much as an afterthought just to teach you a lesson.  Now, I believe he asked _me_ a question.  Hold your tongue, and I might convince him to turn Beth rather than killing her outright.  That’s our best bet so for fuck’s sake _shut up and hold still!_ ”

Jorge’s lips thin out slightly before he says, “Why you agreed to re-turn him I’ll never know.  Coraline DuVall never was adept at picking humans who would make decent vampires.”

I shrug in response because he said it perfectly, it is what it is.

My maker crosses his arms over his chest at my casual shrug and then stares into my eyes for a solid minute effectively building the suspense before he asks, “This human, I believe St. John called her Beth?”

He very well knows her name because I’ve spoken to him about her often enough to be worrisome.  I don’t want anyone, but Mick most of all, to know that, though, so I nod as if her name is new information to him.

My maker’s lips turn upward almost imperceptibly before he asks, “Would she be a waste of vampire blood like your current childe or would she add to our worth and abilities?”

Narrowing my eyes at Mick, I shake my head when he opens his mouth again.  Snapping his mouth shut he clenches his fists at his sides and juts his chin towards me in a silent display of defiance.  He remains quiet, though, so I turn my head and body, so I can see them both and tell my maker, “Ms. Turner is a remarkable human as much as any human can be and I think she would make a phenomenal vampire.”

Mick twitches, so I turn my face so that I can see him completely and his tense jaw and the fire I see in his eyes tells me that I’m going to have a shit storm of anger to contend with when we leave here.  The simple fact that I said that she’d make a phenomenal vampire will fuel multiple arguments in the coming future because if I know my best friend as well as I think I do, he considers that compliment to be my advocating her turning.

I suppose he would be right to a certain extent, but the moment his poker face cracked this stopped being about saving Beth’s human life and became an effort to keep her existing in whatever form possible.

If we’re lucky, my maker will order her turned.  Of course, if Jorge demands that Mick do it, my stubborn best friend would probably do something foolish like draining her entirely without feeding her any of his blood and claim he lost control.

Still, for now making my sire see the benefits of turning Beth is the way to go, and once he’s ordered her turning, I’ll start the tedious and possibly futile job of convincing Mick that vampire Beth is far better than no Beth at all.

Jorge is staring me down, and I’m confident he knows exactly what I’m thinking, after all, as I said, he taught me everything I know.  He clamps his lips together as though he’s holding in a laugh and then says, “That’s exceptionally high and rare praise coming from you, Childe.”

His poorly disguised amusement causes my muscles to loosen just a bit, so I draw a deep breath through my nose and bite my lip.  A moment later he flicks his eyes over to Mick and then glances back at me while he scratches his chin.

We stand through a minute or so of that before he decides how best to respond and tells me, “Very well.  I have half a mind to order St. John to turn her just because I know he loathes what he is so much and his wish for her to remain human is well-known enough that even _I_ know of it.  However, that would mean that his new childe would be beholden to _him_ and would likely adopt his viewpoints and bad habits.  No, I think the proper way to handle this situation and punish you both at the same time is for _you,_ Childe, to turn and train her.”

His words knock me breathless despite my not needing to breathe, and there is a strange warmth in my chest.  That hadn’t even registered as a possibility on my list of likely outcomes, and it’s a lucky thing I hadn’t thought of it, or I’d have had to keep my true feelings from Mick all night long.  Now those feelings have rushed to the surface with my maker’s words, so I do my best to keep from bouncing on the balls of my feet in anticipation of getting my secret desire handed to me on a silver platter.  I’ve wanted to fuck Beth and perhaps call her _my_ human ever since I first laid eyes on her on Mick’s T.V. _and_ I’ve felt the pull or compulsion to turn her and make her my childe since the first time I met her in my office all those months ago.

Of course, I’ve known all along that negotiating with Mick to turn Beth would be a futile effort.  My hands were tied unless I chose to go against Mick’s well-known wishes and take her from him by force or royal decree.  That would have required me officially challenging him and his claim over her, and it probably would have resulted in him dying, which would have upset Beth and me both, so I had been trying to avoid that if at all possible.  It’s imperative to my keeping my friendship with Mick intact, however, that he never discovers that I have even been considering such a move against him.

I mostly keep my elation to myself and fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, Mick is too busy shouting, “No!  He can’t.  I won’t allow it,” to notice the brief flicker of a grin that I let fill my face for a split second.  Fortunately, my back is to the audience, and only my maker sees it.  I make a concerted effort to wipe my expression clean of any signs that I’m happy, or, rather, ecstatic, about this turn of events before Mick turns around.

The distraction works in my favor because Mick still doesn’t know of my secret craving to call his human mine, but trying to order my maker around, well, _that_ was the absolute last thing Mick should have done.  I exhale a deep sigh when Jorge rises from his seat and, despite the slight wobbling of the pallet of boxes he’s standing on, towers over Mick.

My maker sneers yet again, and then his lips thin out before he asks in a low, dangerous voice, “ _You_ won’t allow it?  Last time I checked, _I’m_ the one in control here, _not you_.  I am the Magister of North America and I can and will order anyone I please to do anything I wish.  Clearly, you cannot obey Josef, or at least you don’t desire to do so.  So, here’s what’s going to happen.  Josef will turn this Ms. Turner and train her.  _You_ will be exiled from L.A. or wherever Josef and his childe reside throughout the next five centuries so that you have no opportunity to interfere with Josef’s inherent ability to properly train his new childe.”

Mick opens his mouth again, so I clamp my hand on his shoulder again and squeeze, _hard._   He turns his face towards me, so I slowly shake my head at him and being sure to publicly acknowledge my maker’s position I tell Jorge, “ _Magister,_ you have seen for yourself that it has never taken me half a millennium to train any of my previous 14 childer.  I dare say a century would be more than enough, but, to be safe, two centuries would be plenty of time to teach her everything she will need to know to live and survive in our world.  Besides, Beth is smart, smarter than most humans, in fact, so it’ll hardly take any time for her to learn and internalize each rule and law when I teach it to her.  She will be a proper vampire even before she reaches her first century.”

Jorge purses his lips and narrows his eyes before saying, “Very well, I know you well enough to know that’s remarkably accurate, so we’ll compromise.  His exile will be for three centuries.”

I take a cleansing breath and tell him, “That seems more than fair _Magister_.  How long will Mick have before he needs to leave town?  I respectfully request that he be given a week to settle his affairs after which I will dutifully turn my new Childe.”

Jorge sneers again before he says, “See, St. John, there is a way to play this game that will get you more than what you get if you behave how _you’ve_ been behaving for your entire vampire existence.  Stubbornness and contempt will only get you disappointment and punishment.  You would do well to think over all of the times you’ve witnessed Josef interact with other supernaturals through the years and rethink how you behave based on his stellar example of how a proper vampire should act.”

Mick is grinding his teeth hard enough that the entire room can probably hear it, and he clenches his fists by his sides almost imperceptibly, but I notice it, and I’m sure my maker does, too.  Even in his silence, he’s trying to defy my maker, which is a stupid move any way you look at it.

Jorge purses his lips and then asks, “Josef, do you know what your sister, Celeste, is doing these days?”

My eyes widen at the abrupt subject change, and even though I know that my maker keeps close track of all five of his childer, I tell him, “Last I checked she’s in Louisiana, Shreveport to be specific, working for the Northman.”

Jorge takes out his phone before texting someone, probably Celeste.  He stands there staring Mick down while he waits for a reply.  Four minutes later his phone beeps, so after reading the response, my maker grins at Mick and myself, and I frown back because _that_ smile is never a good sign.  It’s the smirk he wears right before he orders a vampire’s fangs pulled and them staked for a decade or two.

He takes a step towards us on top of his pallet and says, “My oldest childe, Josef’s blood-sister, Celeste, has agreed to take Josef’s young charge in and train him.  St. John, you will obey her and learn everything she tries to teach you, or I will begin turning humans every time you misstep.  Do you understand?”

Mick slowly nods but I elbow his ribs, and he says, “Yes,” through tightly clenched teeth.  I elbow him again, and he growls but says, “Yes, Sir.  I understand.”

My maker’s lips press together forming a thin line before he releases a sharp huff and says, “Well, at least he listens sometimes.  I have full faith that Celeste will have him reformed in no time.  If she can’t do it, then no one can.”

I have no doubt that she will fully accomplish the mission our maker is setting for her because unbeknownst to Mick I used to be exactly like him, and my sire and Celeste both took me to task and turned me into the fine, upstanding vampire elder I am today.  Of course, they were my maker and older blood-sister, and I was a newborn, so I didn’t have 55 some odd years of stubborn bad habits to get rid of.

I don’t envy Celeste _or_ Mick.  They’re going to butt heads from day one.  I know in my heart that Mick is going to fight Celeste’s lessons, so he’s in for probably _at least_ a century of suffering before he gets in line.  I wish he wouldn’t have to suffer, but he needs to stop thinking that he’s a monster, and Celeste is quite possibly the only vampire I trust to do that without trying to completely change who Mick is at a fundamental level.

Jorge smirks and tells us, “St. John is from this moment forward the surrogate childe of Celeste Greenwald and will stay with her for the duration of his three centuries of exile.  Celeste will perform Our Most Sacred Rite and make St. John beholden to her as if she were his original maker.”

My eyes nearly pop out at _that_.  I can’t remember the last time my maker allowed, never mind commanded, Our Most Sacred Rite performed.  It will make it so that Celeste’s Commands will have the same weight and effect Coraline’s Commands would have had when Mick first turned.  The only difference is that it’s irreversible.  Our maker is sticking Celeste with an obstinate childe for all of eternity because she will never be able to release him, which is why the rite is so rarely performed.

I turn and glance at Mick, and he’s just standing there with dull round eyes and a slack jaw.  I told him about the rite when Coraline foolishly released him in the early 1960s, only about a decade after she turned him.  When she released him, he thought he was finally free to do whatever he pleased because no one could forcibly order him to do anything.  I told him about the rite as part of a cautionary tale of all the reasons why he should make sure to follow the laws, or the Magister would order the ritual performed on him.  I had no way of knowing then that 45 years later we’d be standing in this dank warehouse fulfilling the cautionary tale.

I stare at Mick, and his continued slack jaw and wide, unblinking eyes tell me that he probably remembers that conversation just as clearly as I do, so I’m sure he knows _and_ understands exactly what Jorge’s order means.  He’s permanently losing his freedom.

It makes sense from Jorge’s perspective, though, because Mick has a nasty habit of breaking the rules and disobeying whenever it suits him.  That’s part of why my maker disapproves of my friendship with Mick.

It’s also why our friendship confuses Jorge.  As he said earlier, I _always_ follow the law, and I can’t remember the last time I disobeyed a direct order from one of my betters, and yet my best friend only follows the law when it agrees with his objectives.

Mick wasn’t always like this, though.  Yes, when he first turned, he didn’t follow the rules, but that was because no one had taught him our laws.  Once I got my hands on him, I showed him how to be a proper vampire, and everything was perfect until that bitch maker of his interfered again and kidnapped Beth to make a little family with Mick.

Before that night Mick easily and happily followed the rules.  After that night he stopped live feeding and slowly began disregarding the smaller orders and laws until he was also ignoring the bigger ones too.  It happened so gradually that I didn’t even notice the pattern until he was swinging his machete and chopping off Anders’ head.

That’s when I realized that Mick has a series of unpleasant habits that if they belonged to anyone else would cause me to not only hate him on sight, but I would also bring him up on charges faster than he could say ‘Oops.’

Given that he is, in fact, my best friend, I’m not sure I would have been able to properly discipline him, so his becoming Celeste’s childe might be the blessing in disguise that we all need to turn out happy in the long run.

Despite my failings where Mick is concerned my maker does give me one caveat though and says, “I will allow Celeste and Josef to arrange visitations if they both deem that their charges are in the right frame of mind not to undermine the teachings they’ll both be giving their respective childer.”

That’s more than I hoped for, a lot more, so my eyes soften somewhat before I tell him, “Thank you, Sire, that is extremely kind of you to make that provision.”

He barks out a brief yet booming laugh and then tells me, “I made it because I am aware that _you_ are not the issue here.  I think given the brother type dynamic to your relationship that _he’s_ too close to you for you to be able to help him the way he needs it, but that is, in my opinion, on his side of the relationship, not yours.  _You_ know you’re his elder and superior, but he views you like a somewhat older brother on relatively equal standing and therefore considers you to be closer to equals than he really has any right to do so.”

Jorge lets loose a heavy sigh and says, “No matter, that particular dynamic to your relationship with him will be safer once your sister has taught him not to hate what he is.”

He peeks at his phone for a few seconds.  Then he raises his eyes and meets mine before he says, “St. John has until sunrise on February 7th to settle his affairs here and leave Area Two.  I expect him to report to his new maker in Shreveport just after sunset on Thursday.  I’ll text you the address where he will find her.”

I tip my face towards him at that, so he continues, “You, Josef, have a week to prepare for having a newborn in your life.  I will visit you next week on Thursday night to make sure that you have turned this human, not that I doubt that _you’ll_ follow my orders, but I don’t put it past St. John to try to find an angle with which to disobey.”

I allow the corners of my lips to almost imperceptibly slide upward despite the situation and tell him, “Thank you, Sire.  I will make sure that he’s on my plane and on his way to Shreveport before sunrise Thursday morning, and I will turn Beth before sunset on Thursday.”

He shifts his weight and the entire set of boxes he’s on top of wobbles insignificantly enough that he ignores it and asks, “Do you foresee any issues with the human?  I assume she’s attached to him?”

That’s a giant understatement, so I tell him, “Her strange attachment to him may hamper things, but I’m 99% sure that if I explain that it’s this or they both die, then she’ll cooperate, and I don’t think she’ll need much excuse to become one of us.  She’s built for it better than most.”

Pausing I consider my options.  Do I give Jorge all the information he needs to fully understand just how perfect Beth is or do I keep a secret I implied I would withhold from Mick?  The truth will undoubtedly upset Mick, which is why Beth asked me not to tell him.  Although I promised not to share what she asked of me with Mick, I know that revealing this tidbit to my maker will help Jorge view Beth more favorably and make him less likely to take her life to punish Mick.  Consequently, I say a prayer, ‘Please let Beth forgive me for breaking an implied promise this one time.’

Then I take a deep breath and release it slowly before I say, “Given that she’s already asked me to kill someone to protect our secret I’m certain she’ll be a proper vampire without much effort on either of our parts.”

Mick gasps and turns to face me.  His hands curl tightly into fists by his side when he asks in a raised voice, _“She what?”_

I release a long breath and shrug before telling him and the rest of the room, “You were caught on camera surviving a hit and run with no injuries.  The paparazzo who took the pictures thought that was odd and tried to blackmail her, so she came to me and asked me to take care of it.  While she was obviously uncomfortable with what she was asking of me, I made sure that Beth knew exactly how I would handle it, and she didn’t balk, not even a little.  She allowed me to do what was necessary to protect not just you but my area’s vampires as a whole.”

The room erupts in whispers, so while I give everyone the opportunity to settle, I rub the back of my neck and then tell Mick, “My biggest challenge with siring Beth will likely be keeping her from contacting you before Celeste and I deem it appropriate for the two of you to be in touch.  I may even need to issue a Maker’s Command, but I figure I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

Jorge’s lips turn down, and he leans towards me before he asks, “What exactly is Ms. Turner’s connection to him?”

He already knows this whole story, but I figure he has a reason for having me tell it to everyone present.  I shift so marginally that I’m sure it’s hardly noticeable by the crowd.  Then I let out a soft breath and cross my arms before raising a sore subject for all involved, “Coraline DuVall kidnapped her with the intention of turning her when she was just four years old.  Mick acting on my behalf in my role as sheriff prevented his former sire from committing that crime and returned Beth to her mother.  He then kept an eye on Beth at my suggestion because she had possibly seen enough to know of our existence and was far too young to safely glamour.  She repressed the whole thing, though, so it wasn’t an issue until she saved Mick’s life last autumn and discovered his secret.”

I pause my story when everyone starts murmuring about a human saving a vampire’s life.  That won’t reflect well on Mick simply because vampires as a whole generally believe that all humans are inferior to all vampires, so the fact that an inferior species saved a vampire’s life is something worth whispering about.

I smirk at my maker and realize that this next part is probably why he wanted me to tell this story.  He’s ensuring that the accurate details of Beth’s usefulness are publicly known because while the supernatural rumor mill has been running rampant since Beth and Mick reconnected last fall, few know exactly how helpful she’s been.

Jorge’s brows furrow and then smooth out, so I explain, “I felt she wouldn’t be a danger to us and would, in fact, use her new knowledge to protect us.  She was a member of the media at the time and used her position as a journalist to misdirect the public.  She’s helped conceal multiple things the humans are better off not knowing the finer details of, such as the feral newborn that ran roughshod through my city in mid-September.  She and Mick tracked him down, and she distorted the truth for us, effectively misleading the humans.”

The whispering gets perceptibly louder, so I pause, and when everyone seems to have calmed a bit, I tell them, “She also used her relationship with the Deputy D.A. to gain information about the authorities’ plans to raid Lola’s warehouse.  Beth told Mick the address and to get there first and did so with enough time that he was able to set the place ablaze and destroy all evidence of our existence and what Lola was doing before the first human could enter the building.”

No one can know just how fond of Beth I am, so I carefully mask my expression even while I remember the first time I met her in person.  She came to my office to help track down Luke Mineo.  He was targeting prostitutes, so with Mick’s encouragement, Beth proceeded to pretend to be a hooker on the phone with our most recent victim’s johns to help us catch Luke.

With the memory crisp in my mind, I tell the room at large, “She was also instrumental in tracking down Mineo and misleading the humans during their investigation into his run as a prolific serial killer.”

The audience seems to collectively gasp at the fact that a human has been so thoroughly helpful to our kind.  I hold my smile in and finish my story by saying, “Anyway, I knew she had the potential to be of great use to our community, so I allowed her to keep the knowledge and she’s helped keep our secret on many other occasions besides the three I just mentioned.  She works for the D.A.’s office now, so I’m sure her usefulness will be just as profound, if not more so, now that she’ll have the ability to actively lead the human authorities away from information they need not know.”

My maker nods, so at the risk of possibly angering him I add, “I know killing any vampire is against the law except for the most extreme occasions, but Anders was a danger to our secret.  If humans discovered what he was doing both before, or even after, we reveal ourselves later this year, they would have used it as an excuse to hunt us.  Beth helped cover our tracks with the local A.D.A. so that no one will know what Anders was doing even once humans become aware of our existence.  That’s in part why I was considering offering her a job.  She has proven extremely helpful in the few months that she’s known our secret.  For now, I think her being in the D.A.’s office is more useful to us than her working for my businesses so if possible, I’ll leave her in that position.”

The corners of Jorge’s lips tilt upward almost imperceptibly before he says, “Excellent.  I’m sure under your care her value to this community will not only continue but will, in fact, grow in the future.”

Clearly Mick is not of the same mind as my maker and me because he’s breathing heavily despite not needing to breathe at all.  His fists are tightly clenched at his sides, too, so I need to get him out of here and allow him to vent in private where it won’t get anyone killed, so I bow slightly towards Jorge and ask, “Sire, are you finished with us?  I think you’ll agree that now that you’ve made your judgment and handed down our punishments it’s best to keep Mick from making matters worse by saying something disrespectful, and I’ll be honest the longer we’re here, the more likely that is to happen.”

Jorge releases a gust of air and his nose wrinkles, and his lips compress for a split second before he grins his genuine smile that’s reserved only for those of his line and his few close friends.  Being part of his line is a blessing I thank the Goddess for daily, and although I wouldn’t characterize myself as his friend because that’s just not the dynamic our relationship has, I am still immensely close to him.  He’s more of a father figure and me his oldest son.

This whole ordeal would have been much worse if my maker and I weren’t as close as we are.  If I wasn’t his and he barely knew me, my punishment would have been more severe as well, although I’m quite sure my punishment will come in the form of Mick’s reaction to all he heard tonight _and_ how he reacts to my turning and training Beth.  I can be honest with myself, too.  He probably won’t forgive me for being the one to turn Beth for some time to come even despite it being legally mandated.

Jorge meets my eyes with his narrowed gaze and furrowed brow.  His forehead smooths out a couple of seconds later, and then he says, “Yes, I think our parting ways, for now, is the best bet.  Before you both leave, I am fining you each $5 Million for killing Anders.  The check should be made payable to his sire, Terrance Martin.”

I shrug and then pull out my checkbook, which I made sure to bring with me because I knew there would be an exchange of money.  Not to discount the fact that I know that Martin cared for his childe, but the fine is possibly the whole reason he called foul in the first place.

Even though I didn’t know Mick planned to kill Anders, I knew better when I went along with Mick’s general plan, so I figure as the older, more experienced vampire I should foot the entire fine.  Therefore, I write the check for the full $10 Million and hand it to Martin before Jorge gives me a knowing smirk and says, “I’ll be in touch, Josef, and arrange a time for me to be introduced to my new grandchilde.”

The fact that he just claimed Beth as being of his blood even before she’s turned is an excellent sign.  He ordered her turned so he won’t interfere with my turning her and his remarks earlier about my propensity for following the rules makes me believe that he won’t interfere with my training of her either.

In the past, I’ve gone to him for advice when training my 13 previous successful childer, but he’s never interfered.  Oh, he’ll make his views known, but he’ll allow me to do it my way unless Beth or I start breaking our laws, in which case he’ll bury us both.

My maker jerks his head at me and then toward the door, so I release a deliberately quiet exhale, but before turning to leave, I tell him, “Mick will likely try to plot a way around this.  You can be certain that I will do everything in my power to talk him out of disobeying.  He’ll talk big, but I’m confident that’s all it will be, talk.”

Jorge waves a hand in front of him as though he’s batting away my warning and says, “I’ll choose to ignore anything my underlings, or I overhear, but mark my words, Childe, if words turn into actions, I will act swiftly and will not be so forgiving a second time.”

I expel an audible breath before telling him, “I will not promote nor condone insubordination, not now, _not ever_.  You not only taught me better than that, but I’ve seen many countless examples through the years of the futility, not to mention epic stupidity, of disobeying one’s betters.”

Jorge just makes a shooing motion with his hands before saying, “Then go and talk your wayward childe out of making an epic mistake that he will not soon forget the consequences of making.”

I bow slightly and tell him, “Thank you, Master.”

He chuckles lightly at my use of the word Master.  When we’re in private he teases me anytime I call him Master because he released me when I was 404 years old mere days before I became the youngest sheriff ever appointed by a royal then or now.  Therefore, I haven’t called him Master in anything resembling a regular basis since then.  I use the term occasionally, though, to show my respect for him and show the world that despite my own greatness and accomplishments throughout the last 5,000 years I still consider him my better and respect him like no other.  I know it pleases him, but he would good-naturedly rib me about it if we were alone.

I turn and begin walking towards the door, but Mick doesn’t move to follow me, so after I’ve taken five steps I backtrack, wrap my hand around Mick’s upper arm and practically drag him from the room to the alley outside.

No lights are shining in the alley where my limo is waiting for us.  Even still, I can see the stack of water stained pallets over by the dumpster that has some unidentifiable green liquid dripping from the corner of it.  It smells chemical, and although it is somewhat overpowering, I can also detect the remnants of food still lying in some crumpled takeout wrappers off to the side of the dumpster.  The two rats scurrying about in the corner scamper off after something or more likely dart away from us, the apex predators who just entered the alleyway.

My instincts are on high alert after publicly playing chess with my maker, so I scan the surrounding area with my vampire senses and relax a moment later when it’s clear there is no one else nearby.  Or I should say, no one is nearby who means us any harm.  My maker has employees stationed all over the area, though, including on the roof with one almost directly above us.

I lead Mick to my car and open the door.  When he hesitates, I tell him, “Get in.  I think you’ll agree that we need to a.) not be here and b.) go speak with Beth and warn her of what her new future will be.”

He scowls at me and stands still with narrowed eyes before crossing his arms over his chest and asking me, “Josef, you can’t seriously expect me to allow you to turn her?”

I grab the back of his neck, push down to make him bend at the waist, and then shove him into the car mindful that several of Jorge’s underlings are now leaning over the edge of the roof watching us.  Despite my warning my maker of Mick’s imminent talk of insubordination, I don’t want to press our luck.  My being Jorge’s favored childe will only get us so far.  If my sire’s people report that Mick is actively conspiring to go against his orders none of this will end well for any of us.

I turn and cast my gaze at Vincent who followed us outside.  There’s a reason that he’s my right-hand and my second-in-command.  Tonight went as well as it did, in large part, because Vincent made sure everything was in order before we arrived.

I clap him on the back, and then after meeting his warm gaze, I tell him, “I’ll be at Ms. Turner’s house most of the night.  If anything pressing develops, text or call.”

I pause, and after he nods a couple of times, I tell him, “I’m unsure if I’ll be coming into the office for the rest of the week.  I think I’ll know more on that once I speak with Beth, so I’ll call you later and warn you about what’s going on.”

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other before he says, “I’ll take care of the prisoners that are still in our custody and fill out as much of the paperwork as I can without you.”

I place my hand on his shoulder, and squeeze before telling him, “Thank you, Vincent, you’re a lifesaver.”

He chuckles and asks, “Can I be an orange one?”

I tip my head back and release a bark of laughter before I tell him, “You can be whatever flavor you want.  Blood Orange, maybe?”

He beams at that, so I pat his shoulder and then get into the limo behind Mick.  I raise my hand when he opens his mouth to say something, and I tell the driver to go to Beth’s building.  Then I glance at Mick for a minute, but before I can say anything, he repeats himself and says, “Josef, you can't expect me just to stand by and let you destroy Beth’s life?”

I pinch my lips together before I tell him something that has escaped him his entire vampire existence, “I won’t be destroying her life, Mick, I’ll be saving it.  You never did understand that.  Turning her is the better option because killing her _would most definitely_ destroy her life.”

He waves his hand at me in a dismissive manner and says, “Whatever, you can’t expect me to let you turn her?  I won’t allow it.”

I huff and tell him, “That’s exactly what I expect you to do.  And didn’t we already cover the fact that you and I are not in control here, or were you not paying attention when my maker and I both pointed out that _he’s_ the one with the power?  Our lives are at stake, Mick.  The options available to us are Beth turns, or we all die.  I don’t know about you, but I am wholly unwilling to die, and I’m sure Beth will agree with that sentiment.”

His fingers are twitching, and he uses one hand to grab a fistful of his hair and pull, so I continue what is likely a futile attempt to knock some sense into him, “Jorge being my sire and him and me being on such excellent terms with each other will only buy you and me so much leniency.  Eventually, you’re going to cross a line, and I won’t be able to protect you, _or_ Beth if you drag her into your bad behavior.  It’s best for all involved that Beth become a vampire and we all continue to exist rather than all three of us dying.”

I’m doing my best to keep my voice neutral, so he won’t know just how pleased I am with the way tonight has gone.  Oh, don’t get me wrong, I regret that Mick is losing his freedom, though, I did warn him repeatedly through the years.  I also regret the pain, frustration, and heartache that Mick _and_ Celeste will both undoubtedly experience because of our stupid mistake, but the fact of the matter is that we broke the law, and I’m getting my deepest most secret wish as punishment.

Mick crosses his arms again and juts out his chin, but I’m sure he has no clue just how satisfied I am with the outcome of tonight’s proceedings.  Sighing, I tell him a half-truth, “Keep in mind that if I die so will you and Beth because as much as you hate to admit it, you’re both under my protection.  I die, and that protection dies with me.”

The likelihood of my death is exceptionally slim, so that’s the half-truth, but if I did die, the rest would be entirely accurate.  Regardless, I continue my attempt to talk him out of being stupid by saying, “As it is, the fact I’m Jorge’s favored childe is the only reason Beth is still alive, and you aren’t being forced to turn multiple strangers to counterbalance the vampires we killed.”

Beth still being alive has more to do with my having expressed to my maker repeatedly how much I like and admire her, well, as much as I can approve of and respect a human.  My sire and sister are the only ones in the world who know of my secret desire to call Beth my childe.  _That_ is likely the reason she’s still alive, but my maker wouldn’t care if she lives or dies if _I_ wasn’t _his_ favored childe.

Mick is glowering and jerking his head back and forth forcefully, so I meet his gaze with narrowed eyes and ask, “Are you going to cooperate, or do I need to stake you and send your immobilized ass to Shreveport and tie up your loose ends for you?  Because I will.  When I returned to L.A., and we met for the second time, I swore to protect you even from yourself, and I always keep my promises.  That said, I promise to keep Beth from becoming the monster you fear she’ll become.”

He slumps in his seat and sighs before asking, “I have no choice, do I?”

I pat his shoulder, “The moment you killed Anders our choices were taken from us.”

Mick scowls and leans away from me before he tells me, “He needed to be stopped, Josef.”

I reach out and squeeze his arm before I sit back in my seat and say, “I know, and I’ll be sure and have a conversation about that with my maker when you’re not around to lose your temper.  While it won’t affect us, Jorge will likely penalize Martin for _his_ childe’s poor behavior.  That said, his crimes didn’t warrant his death, so that’s why we’re being punished because we overstepped.”

Mick just glowers at me and leans farther away from me in his seat, but he doesn’t argue, and we sit in silence after that.  A few minutes later the car pulls in front of Beth’s building.  We sit there in continued quiet for a while more.

When I move to open the door Mick puts his hand on mine and asks, “Can—can you tell her?  I—I can’t, I need to not see her.  I can’t see her happiness when you tell her that she has to turn.  I need to remember her as a human who’s happy to be mortal.”

I sigh and stare at him for a minute, but he won’t meet my gaze before I ask him, “After everything the two of you have been through together you’re just going to abandon her?  You’ve been essentially stalking her since she was four years old and protecting her from humans and supernaturals alike for far longer than she’s known who you are and now you’re just throwing in the towel?”

He doesn’t respond, so after taking a deep breath and then letting it out slowly through my nose, I shift in my seat and sit back before telling him, “Just because you won’t see each other for the better part of three centuries doesn’t mean you can’t keep supporting her and being her friend.  While you won’t be able to contact her until Celeste approves it, your exile won’t be forever, and if you cooperate, it won’t be all exclusive either.  There’s this nifty contraption called a phone and another one called a computer that once you have permission will allow you to remain in touch even without seeing each other.”

He’s leaning away from me again, so I scratch the back of my neck and tell him, “She’s going to need all the support she can get, Mick, and who better to give her pep talks and help me keep her from following in both of our newborn footsteps right after turning than you?”

I pause, and when he doesn’t respond at all, not even with a twitch, I tell him, “Mick you have an unusually high amount of control over your baser instincts, especially considering how young your original maker was when she turned you.  Now that I’ve re-turned you, your control is likely to be even better than mine was at your age.  Beth will only benefit from having you remain in her life as much as Celeste will permit.  Besides, if you don’t burn the bridge between the two of you, 300 years will go by in a flash, and your one reason for not getting involved with her will no longer be true.  She’ll be yours for eternity if you continue to support and protect her.”

A small voice inside my head says, ‘He loves her _because_ she’s human.’ Even if that isn’t true, Mick doesn’t deserve her if he walks away now.  He won’t be worthy of her if he runs when things get difficult.

He releases a heavy breath, and his shoulders slump before he says, “I—I’m afraid that I love _human_ Beth.  I don’t think I’ll be able to love _vampire_ Beth.”

And he just proved my inner voice right.  Beth probably could have been anyone, and he would have fancied himself in love.  He only thinks he’s in love and any affection Mick has for her is merely because she is what _he_ wants to be most in the world.  He’s not in love with _who_ she is but rather with _what_ she is, and that right there is a recipe for disaster.

Something inside me shifts at that realization.  Mick is my best friend, as close to an actual brother as I’ve had in a long, long time, but Beth is going to be my childe, and if I get my way, she’ll be my responsibility for far longer than the next 300 or 400 years.

My sire didn’t release me until it was necessary for my new station within the community and between my 26 human years and my 378 vampire years, I was 404 years old when I became sheriff, so it could be as long or longer before I release Beth, probably much longer.

I take my responsibility as Beth’s future maker exceptionally serious.  Therefore, to protect my new childe as much as I can, even from my best friend, I sigh again, nod, and tell him, “Then go.  Go pack your things and tie up any loose ends you might have.  I’ll call you tomorrow after twilight and tell you how she reacted.”

He shrugs both shoulders, and something seems off.  He’s taking this all far better than I thought he would.  He’s not looking me in the eyes, and he hasn’t yelled or expounded about how unfair life is and how he hates being a vampire.  Typically, I wouldn’t be able to get him to shut up about either of those two things.  He also hasn’t argued with me for choosing to angle for Beth to turn to prevent her from dying permanently.  It’s as though he’s just going through the motions to get away from me so that he can stage a small but ultimately doomed rebellion.

He’s not the most vulnerable of those under my care, though, so he’s not my biggest concern.  I love him like a brother, though, so I give him the most honest advice I’ve given anyone, _ever,_ “Whatever you do, Mick, do _not_ try to run.  I guarantee that Jorge and Celeste, both, will make you regret the choice for the rest of your existence and there will be nothing I will be able to do to help you.  You need to play this smart, Mick.  Don’t let your hatred of what we are cloud your good reason.”

He nearly pouts and says, “I know.  I’m crazy, not stupid.”

My eyes widen, and my eyebrows lift into my hairline at that statement.  I stare at Mick hard for a minute before I challenge his incorrect view of himself.  My lips press together into a tight line, and I ask, “So that was crazy, not stupid talking when you told the Magister of North America, a vampire that is roughly 7,460 years older than you, that Beth is off limits and he’s not allowed to order her to be turned?”

His entire body sags, and he sighs dejectedly before saying, “Thank you for preventing me from getting us all killed.”

His tone sounds off, but I can’t put my finger on what exactly is going on inside that stubborn head of his, so I send up a prayer, ‘Please, whatever asinine plan he’s busy concocting don’t let it take Beth or me down with him or anyone else for that matter.’

I want him to know how important he is to me, though, so I put my hand on his shoulder and tell him, “You’re more than my best friend, you’re my brother.  I would do anything to help or protect you, even turn the human you love for her mortality.”

He doesn’t respond, so I tell him, “If you permit, I’ll tell Beth your history in graphic detail to illustrate what you and I both don’t want her to become.”

He only jerks his head down once, and then opens the door and gets out.  After he closes the door, I just sit and contemplate the nagging feeling I have in the pit of my stomach that grows by the second.  I’m almost sure that my annoyingly stubborn best friend is about to do something foolish that might even cost him his existence.  I can’t see how I can protect him _and_ Beth at the same time, though, because I’m confident after our discussion just now that it’s better for Beth that Mick stay away, at the very least, for the foreseeable future, if not for eternity.

So, my number one priority has shifted tonight from protecting Mick _and_ Beth at all costs to protecting my future childe at all costs.  Therefore, I take my phone out of my pocket and in the hopes of ensuring that Mick’s imminent bad behavior doesn’t land anywhere near Beth or myself I text my maker telling him, “I hope you have eyes on Mick because I have a bad feeling.  My extremely competent and incredibly wise maker taught me to always listen to those feelings, so I thought I should make you aware that I am uncertain whether or not my warnings against disobeying fell on deaf ears.”

Jorge texts back almost immediately, “Thank you, Childe, you continue to prove yourself worthy of my trust and consideration.  As for St. John, I have three of my best men following him towards his apartment now.  I will inform you immediately if they witness him trying to disobey my orders.”

Because I’m alone in the back of my limo, I allow my grin to spread across my face unchecked, and then I fire off a return text, “Thank you, Master.”

My smile brightens, even more, when his next text arrives, “You are most welcome.  There are many reasons that you are my most favored childe.  Your obedience and gratefulness, not to mention your willingness to express both of those things openly _and_ in private, are only some of the many reasons my regard for you is even higher than my regard for your sister.  Now, I have other matters to attend to, and I believe that you do as well.  I’ll be in touch soon.”

I sit back and just bask in the rare, high praise from my maker.  I’ve always known he has a much higher regard for me than most other vampires.  He wouldn’t have purchased and then later turned me if he didn’t see my potential right from the start.  However, he very rarely speaks so openly of having a higher regard for me than my Celeste, _and_ that’s saying something in and of itself because there are few he regards more than her.

Pushing thoughts of my maker’s approval from my mind for the moment I lift my glass from earlier and drop my fangs, sucking up the contents.  Then I pour myself a much smaller drink than before and sink farther into my leather seat.  Rolling the glass around in my hands I watch the amber liquid sloshing around.

How do I break the news to Beth of both her impending transition and her imminent break-up with Mick?  She’s extremely attached to him, especially now that she knows that Mick is the one who rescued her when she was a child, so I think it’s the latter that will upset her more than her future turning.

I think I’ll just play it by ear and, well, there’s no time like the present, so I bring my glass to my lips and suck down the contents and put the glass back into the sideboard before exiting the limo and striding into Beth’s building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have completely written and edited this story, so all that remains is to post it. I will be posting subsequent chapters once a week, probably on the weekends.


	3. Nothing to do with Luck

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**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Chapter 003**

**Nothing to do with Luck**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Wednesday, January 30, 2008; 11:25 p.m. PST**

**The Hallway Outside of Beth’s Apartment, L.A., CA**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

Beth’s building is an old Victorian House that has two floors with four units on each floor.  Her apartment is on the second floor, so I stride up the short set of stairs to the porch and then stroll through the front door to the foyer before I turn left and make my way up the flight of stairs to her floor. 

While I walk down the hallway leading to the door with the number Five on it, I use my vampire senses to scan for anything out of the ordinary.  It’s a habit that has helped me survive numerous attempts on my life through the years. 

Everything seems in place, but you can never be too careful, and, frankly, Mick has me on edge.  I’m 98% percent sure that he’s going to try something stupid like run, and I’m just as sure that he’s going to try and take Beth with him.

I reach her door, and after drawing in a deep breath that I don’t need and exhaling slowly through my nose, I reach up and knock on the door and wait.

And wait…

No answer.  So, I knock again a minute later, but there’s still no response.  I extend my senses paying attention to how many heartbeats are in the building.  There are two heartbeats in the apartment across the hall from Beth’s that are sleeping.  There are seven other slumbering heartbeats and one pacing while holding a crying infant in the other six units in the building, but there’s no heartbeat coming from inside _her_ apartment.

Leaning against the door, I wait.  Where is Beth?  It’s almost 11:30 at night.  Shouldn’t she be home by now?  I mean, Mick was unavailable this evening, so she doesn’t have her sidekick with her unless he’s contacted her and roped her into whatever he’s planning. 

No, he had no way of reaching her before he left for his apartment, and she wasn’t home when we got here, or I’d have seen her go, so she’s just out doing whatever it is she does when she’s not helping Mick solve mysteries.

Just to be safe, I text Rider, my maestro of all things telephonic, “Activate the GPS trackers I had placed in both Mick and Beth’s phones.” 

I had them placed in both phones strictly as a precautionary measure.  I’ve had tracking devices on each of Mick’s cell phones since he got his first one in the mid-1990’s.  Getting one into Beth’s phone was a little more difficult, but it’s been there since early October.  Thankfully, I haven't had a need to activate either of them before tonight, but my gut says I need to utilize all my resources to protect Beth.

Rider texts back a moment later, “Done, call if you need anything else, Sire.”

I beam at him even though he’s not here to see it and reply, “Thank you, I will.”  He’s an excellent childe, and I was lucky to find him in 1831, though, I didn’t turn him until almost two years later because he was unwilling to leave his home until after he and his boss, Pavel Schilling, had managed to create and use the first electromagnetic telegraph cable line.  Once they accomplished their goal, I gave him a few months to bask in their success and organize his notes, and then I talked him into leaving with me and becoming my childe.  I have never once regretted turning him or allowing him that extra time to finish what he and Pavel started.

I shake my head to clear it of memories of faraway times, and then I pull up the program Rider put on my phone and watch while Mick’s red dot stays motionless at his apartment. 

I pull up Beth’s dot.  She’s heading in the opposite direction from Mick’s and is, in fact, getting closer to her home, so I release a trembling breath and then put my phone back into my suit pocket.

I’m relatively sure Beth wouldn’t have rescinded my invitation after I left her apartment last week, so I contemplate the pros and cons of sneaking into her home.  I don’t want to piss her off needlessly because I have to convince her that turning is the best option, so I stay put in the hallway. 

About 20 minutes after I first knocked on her door, I’m about to risk angering her by going outside and using Beth’s balcony door to sneak in and wait for her in comfort when I hear footsteps coming up the sidewalk.  The steps are light and probably belong to a human woman. 

Hoping it’s Beth and resisting the urge to check her location on my phone again, I turn my head while I lean against the wall and wait to see if it’s her or another neighbor.

I offer up a small prayer of praise, _‘Thank you Goddess!’_ when Beth appears in the doorway of the stairwell.  Her purse and her computer bag are hanging off her slender shoulder, and she’s fiddling with her phone while she strolls down the hallway. 

She slaps the side of her phone with the palm of her hand and says to it, “Come on, you’re less than a year old, and I only ran you through the wash the one time.”

She pauses her movement forward and pushes at the screen of her phone before saying, “You sat in rice for a month, and you’ve worked fine since August, so, now, you should not be dying this soon.  Mick sent me several texts so show me the damn messages.”

I push out a jarring breath at the news that her phone has possibly, probably, prevented Mick from bringing her into his poor decision, and the fact that he tried to contact her after leaving my limo tells me that he _is_ actively misbehaving.

She begins walking again with her eyes still focused on her phone, and she’s so preoccupied with trying to make it do what she wants that she doesn’t know that I’m here until I say, “Blondie.”

She gasps and jumps in place before she then brings her hand up to her heart and asks, “Josef?  What—?  Is Mick okay?  He texted me a couple of times in the last 25 minutes, but my phone won’t show me the messages.”

I shrug and break eye contact before I tell her, “Physically he’s fine and eventually mentally and emotionally he should be fully healed, but it’s going to take some time.”

She tilts her head to the side at that, so I release a violent sigh and tell her, “I’ll be honest, Beth, I’m pleased that your phone isn’t cooperating tonight.  Things have happened this evening, and I think Mick isn’t thinking clearly.  I was worried that he’d try and rope you into his bad decisions.”

Her eyes are round like plates, but her brow furrows and then releases before she asks, “Um okay, can I ask what’s going on or… is it…” She glances around, and then lowering her voice she continues, “Is it um,” she pauses and motions towards me with her hand, “ _your_ business and none of,” she points to herself and finishes her thought, “ _my_ business?”  

I chuckle at that and tell her, “Alert the presses because the world must be ending if Beth Turner is willing not to ask prying questions just because someone might say it’s none of her business.”

She snorts before saying, “Hey, I might resemble that remark.”

My light laughter lingers, and then I wave my hand towards her door and tell her, “Let’s bring this inside, shall we?”

She moves to the door, unlocking it, and once she opens it, she strolls inside and confirms my earlier suspicion when she says, “I never uninvited you, so come in Josef.  I get the sense we’re going to need more privacy than what my hallway provides for this conversation about whatever it is that has you looking like your best friend just died.  He didn’t, right?  You said physically he’s fine, right?”

I follow her into her apartment and close and lock the door behind me.  I offer up another chuckle at her lack of breathing while talking before I tell her, “Breathe, Blondie.  It’s been several millennia since I was human, but I’m pretty sure you humans need to do that regularly.”

She giggles and shrugs both shoulders while my body quakes with suppressed laughter for a few seconds, but then I still and tell her, “We need to talk, and the matter is serious, but in the long run, you and I will both survive to see another day.”

She lets out a gust of air at that, but then I tell her, “Mick’s future is a little more uncertain and rests entirely on the decisions he makes in the next few hours or so.  The fact that he tried to contact you in the last half hour means he’s not thinking clearly because he knows I’m here and that I planned to speak with you about what happened tonight.  He specifically asked me to speak to you on his behalf, so his texting you means that he’s trying to go around the orders of our betters, and that concerns me.”

She wrinkles her brow and bites her lip, so I continue and tell her, “I doubt he’ll lose his life as a result of his bad behavior, but I’m sure he’s going to wish and beg for death before this is all over.  For the time being, though, he’s alive and well.”

She opens her mouth to speak but then closes it, and her eyebrows draw together before she places her purse and computer bag on her kitchen island and removes her khaki-colored jacket.  She lays it on the counter beside her bags, and then she turns towards me, and after putting her hands on her hips, she narrows her eyes and says, “Ya know, _that_ totally didn’t calm my worries at all, so tell me what’s up, and maybe more information will make me feel better.”

I shrug and observe her living room while I stall.  I’m not as confident now as I was earlier about how receptive she’ll be to what I have to say. 

Her apartment hasn’t changed much since I was here last Wednesday.  There’s a cream-colored couch that still has a pink floral pattern that I’ve always thought is a bit too feminine for Beth.  Don’t get me wrong, she’s all woman, but she doesn’t strike me as the pink flowery type.  She might be the hot pink, purple, and black plaid type, maybe, but not the pink flower type.

Beside the couch, there’s a round end table.  On the table are a mostly empty glass of water sitting on a coaster and a stack of books with an empty plate on the top of it.  A grey sweater is resting over the back of the sofa, but other than those few changes the room appears perfectly neat and tidy and the same as it did when I was here exactly a week ago. 

To further stall, I move farther into her apartment and sit down on her small couch.  It’s smaller than any couch I own, possibly because it also shares space with a sizable wooden table that doubles as her desk. 

Either way, the sofa doesn’t seem long enough for me at six-feet tall to comfortably stretch out on, but given that Beth is much shorter than me it’s likely the perfect length for her five-foot-six-inch frame. 

The two armchairs across from the couch are small too.  I could sit in them for a while and be relatively comfortable, I suppose, but it’d be a tight fit. 

I lean back against the couch before gazing at her for a minute.  My eyes start at her stylish black closed-toe slingback heels and travel up the length of her body.  She’s wearing a snug pair of blue jeans that hug her curves perfectly and a fitted black business jacket over a cream-colored blouse that, although modest, doesn’t do much to hide the pleasing curves that Mother Nature gave my future childe.  Her flaxen hair is loose around her shoulders, and I, once again, admire the way it curls around her face.  The light hits it when she moves making it appear soft and shiny.

She has a bemused grin on her heart-shaped face with a gentle turning of her lips upward, and when my eyes reach her cobalt ones, I realize that she’s staring at me with laughter in her bright eyes.  She giggles and asks, “Like what you see, Josef?”

I look her up and down again and then tell her, “Most definitely.”

Her eyes squint at me, but they’re lit with a mischievous twinkle, so I smile in return and then inhale a deep breath I don’t need and let it out through my nose.  I’ve stalled for long enough, so I need to get on with explaining everything to her. 

Straightforward honesty is no doubt the best policy with my future childe, so I tell her, “You’re probably correct that the more information you have, the better you’ll feel… maybe… maybe not.  Either way, you should know as much as possible so that _you_ can make a fully informed decision about _your_ future.”

Her eyebrows rise, and her lips purse before she asks, “Does this have to do with why Mick told me not to come home tonight until he texted me that it was safe?”

My eyes widen at that, and I lean forward and place my elbows on my knees with my hands folded together in front of me before asking, “When did he tell you that?”

She shrugs and says, “In the car this afternoon on our way home from the Fordham’s house.  He dropped me off here and told me to go out around 7 and not to come back until he texted me that it was safe.  He said he’d either text me that it was safe or meet me at the diner I’m supposed to be waiting at.  He wouldn’t tell me what was going on other than ‘It’s vampire business.’  Though he did promise to explain after the fact.  Anyway, he said it’d be over by 11 tonight, and I got tired of waiting shortly after 11, so I started heading in this direction, and then he texted me.  I figured, even though I couldn’t see the message, that if he was texting me, then he was telling me I could come home.  Of course, that might have been wishful thinking because you’re here and he’s not.”

Damn.  Mick apparently had a plan in place long before we ever stepped foot into my warehouse.  I shake my head and tell her, “I’ll be honest with you, I highly doubt that his text said it was safe for you to come home.  I mean you no harm and am doing my best to protect you, but Mick is angry with me and his general situation right now, so he undoubtedly told you he was running late, and you should either continue to wait or meet him somewhere else.”

She pinches the skin of her throat with one hand and rubs the other along her pants leg, so I tell her, “Let me be clear, your life would have been forfeit if you had gone to meet him.  Therefore, I’m incredibly pleased and grateful that you left before he got there and that your phone wouldn’t show you his texts.”

Her eyes are narrowed, so I tell her, “I mean it, Beth, I have news that affects you, but I don’t mean you any harm, quite the opposite really.  However, Mick’s plan would have certainly cost you your life.  What I need from you now is for you to listen with an open mind and give me a chance to explain your options.  Know that these are options that Mick potentially doesn’t want you to know about, but it’s in your best interest that we allow you to make a fully informed decision.  You’re a grown woman, and the time for making your decisions for you ended years ago.  Now, are you willing to hear me out?”

She draws what I assume is supposed to be a calming breath, and then after she releases it, she says, “I may not know you as well as I know Mick, but I know I can trust you with my life.  In fact, I possibly trust you more than I trust Mick because his judgment gets clouded by his poor self-image.  You, on the other hand, know who _and_ what you are, _and_ you make no apologies for either thing.  If it protects those you consider yours, you’ll do it and not lose any sleep over it.  You just said you mean me no harm, and I believe you, so I’m going to trust that I am, in fact, currently safe with you despite what Mick might think.”

The sides of my lips lift slightly, and I let out a burst of air at her display of trust.  I lean towards her slightly and tell her, “Thank you, Beth.  According to the rules of my world, you are now officially mine to protect.  I’ll explain why that is in a minute, but, suffice it to say, I really mean you no harm.”

Her blinking picks up pace at my proclamation, but she doesn’t argue my statement, so I tell her, “First, I don’t know how much Mick has told you about supernatural society.  I’m guessing he hasn’t told you much just based on his apathy towards the supernatural in general.  You do know that I’m what’s called a sheriff, correct?”

She slowly tilts her head in affirmation, so I nod once and tell her, “Good, that’s a start at least.  So, what you may or may not know is that vampires have a power structure that includes not just sheriffs but kings and queens too and a few other positions a little higher or lower on the chain of command.  The kings and queens rule over kingdoms that in the United States usually consist of a state or group of states, and the sheriffs oversee territories within the kingdoms called areas.  I’m the Sheriff of Area Two in the Kingdom of California.  My area contains all of Los Angeles County.”

I run my hand through my hair and tell her, “Mick worked under me and was, until tonight, the Area Two Investigator.  He and I work, or I guess worked, together to uphold our rules and laws within my area.”

She crosses her arms while closely observing me, so I keep going, “While Mick figured out who was doing what most of the time, I rule over the vampires of my area and punish those who break the more minor laws.”

I pause and rub the back of my neck.  I’m not used to telling humans these things, and even though she’s to be my childe shortly, my instincts are screaming at me to shut up.  That happened when I told all of this to my beloved Sarah in April of 1955 in preparation for my attempting to turn her, too. 

Sighing slightly, I gaze up at Beth and tell her, “The monarchs are the equivalent of the executive branch of the United States government while the Magister for each continent of the world is like the judicial branch.  We also have a governing body that oversees the rest of the government.  We don’t elect those who hold positions in the Authority.  They won those offices by force, but they are the vampire equivalent of the legislative branch, in that they are the ones that create the laws that the rest of us must follow.

Her eyebrows rise towards her hairline, and her body is leaning towards me slightly, so I tell her, “The Magisters try and punish those who break our more serious laws.  Now, the reason I’m explaining all of this to you tonight and not some other day is that one of those laws is that we don’t kill each other.  There _are_ some incredibly rare yet entirely acceptable exceptions such as someone who has tried to or successfully turned a child or fed on or otherwise hunted other vampires in something resembling a pattern or habit.  Repeatedly not covering up any crimes, particularly murder, that the vampire may have committed is also grounds for execution.”

I pause and then tell her something that is currently hitting a little too close to home for me, “In more rare cases those vampires who refuse to obey the orders of their superiors in a discernible pattern that can clearly and decisively be labeled a habit will also be ended, though those cases are fairly rare.”

Her eyes widen at that, and I’m 98% sure that she understands that Mick is getting dangerously close to fitting that description.  There is nothing either of us can do about that at the moment, so I continue my explanation of the fundamental laws governing my world, “Despite those four exceptions, generally speaking, killing another vampire is a big no-no.  Every time a vampire is legally ended there is a meeting of those in positions of power, and they all have to approve in a majority rules vote, or it won’t happen.”

I pause when she shifts on her feet and leans towards me more just slightly before I resume my explanation, “Mick has killed multiple vampires in recent times, and I helped in one of those instances.  My superiors and me, in my role as Sheriff, approved each death when Mick killed Pollock, Mineo, and Lola because they were some of those acceptable exceptions.  We approved them because Pollock was a feral accidental turn and unable to properly acclimate to living surrounded by humans and was leaving a trail of bodies in his wake in extremely public locations.  Mineo was indiscriminately killing escorts and making a name for himself as a prolific serial killer among the humans while doing it.  Then there was Lola who was hunting her own kind and draining them to make a drug that was also killing humans and, therefore, put _her_ on the humans’ radar.  All three of these vampires’ crimes were punishable by death.”

She’s gently nodding, so I tell her, “However, our killing Anders in defense of you and the A.D.A. would not have been approved by my superiors under any circumstance.  While he _was_ misbehaving, ultimately, we would have fined him and physically punished him for his crimes and then given him the opportunity to turn his behavior around before ending him would even be on the table of possible outcomes.  I know Anders’ maker, Terrance Martin, well enough to know that he would have made sure that his childe obeyed, so he shouldn’t have died.  Because we killed him, Mick and I stood trial tonight for destroying Anders and were found guilty.”

She gasps at that news and takes a step forward and then halts.  Her hand is covering her mouth, and her eyes are wide with tears pooling in them ready to fall at any time, so I hurry and tell her, “Before you worry your pretty blonde head any more than absolutely necessary, Mick is, as I said earlier, alive.  Not killing vampires applies to those in power, too, and although we killed Anders, it was a one-time thing, so we won’t be ended for it.”

She lets out a heavy sigh at that, so I draw in a cleansing breath and then meet her eyes before telling her, “Mick is perfectly healthy and is likely brooding at his apartment by now.”

Her hand trembles while it rises to her mouth. 

I grimace and tell her, “However, there _are_ consequences to our actions.”

She takes another jerky step towards me, so I inhale and then tell her, “One of those consequences is that my blood-sister will be training Mick, basically teaching him not to hate what he is anymore.  It’s for the best, or I fear he will kill himself once you die.”

Her shoulders slump and then she moves and sits in the chair that’s almost directly across from me.  I sit forward and turn my body ever so slightly towards her a bit more before telling her, “Another consequence is that we need to replace Anders and make another vampire.  Because we killed him in defense of you—”

She interrupts and asks, “You need to turn _me,_ don’t you?  That’s why Mick didn’t want me to come home.  He knew my human life might end up forfeit.”

I scrub a hand over my face and then tell her, “Yes, I was almost certain that he didn’t fully understand what was at risk but everything you’ve told me just now shows me that he understood much better than I thought.  Anyhow, my punishment is that I need to turn my best friend’s human angel against his wishes.  I’m hoping it won’t be against yours, though, because either way, Jorge will force this on us, so your only other recourse is your final death, and not to pressure you or anything, but I will likely end up further punished if that happens.”

She sits back and ignoring my mention of her final death asks, “Jorge?”

I lean in towards her and tell her, “He’s the Magister, basically judge, jury, and, in some more incredibly rare and especially extreme cases, executioner.  Fortunately, he’s my maker or sire.  We’re remarkably close even by normal maker/childe relational standards, so he went lightly on us.  The part you’re possibly going to have the most trouble with is that you and I will be forcibly separated from Mick until such time that Celeste and I decide his influence won’t undermine your training.”

She leans forward, puts her elbows on her knees, and after folding her hands together under her chin she asks, “My training?”

I grin slightly and tell her, “I need to teach you our rules and laws and just basically how to be a proper vampire.  I won’t make you kill anyone and will do my best to prevent that from happening, but you need to learn to live feed, and you need to learn how the supernatural world works.”

She’s smiling, so I incline my head and tell her, “Mick is rare in that he’s a vampire who mostly resides in the human world.  He rarely interacts with other supes besides my entourage and me and only follows the rules when absolutely necessary.”

I steal a deep breath and then exhale quickly before owning up to my responsibility in how my relationship with Mick behaves by telling her, “Part of that is my fault.  I love him like a brother and couldn’t bring myself to discipline him, but, to be fair, it wasn’t until he killed Anders that I realized exactly how bad his behavior and casual disregard for our laws have become.  Even if I had figured it out sooner and tried to discipline him, it wouldn’t have worked because he sees me as a slightly older equal not his elder and superior, and for once I don’t have the heart to do to him what would have been necessary to change his viewpoint.”

I pause, and then after rubbing a hand over my face, I confess, “To be honest, I don’t want to change his viewpoint.  I may not like or approve of his behavior, but I do like the dynamic of our friendship, for the most part, so until now I’ve let his ever increasingly bad behavior slide.  As a result, he mostly pretends we’re equals except for when my being an elder is beneficial to what he wants.  With his hatred of all things vampire that’s not safe for any of us.  Celeste will help him learn that he’s not a monster and will teach him the things he never allowed Coraline or me to teach him.”

She clears her throat before asking, “Uh, I’m not opposed to you turning me, especially if the alternatives are me dying and you getting further punished, but, um, well, not to bring up a sore subject, but how often does a turning not work?  I mean, um, how often does something like what happened to Sarah happen?”

I release a gust of borrowed air when she says she’s willing to turn.  I do frown, though, at the thought of my beloved Sarah.  I met Sarah at Grand Central Station in 1954 while I was living under the alias Charles Fitzgerald.  I didn’t mean to fall in love with her.  I wasn’t searching for love, believe me.  In fact, at first, I had no clue what I felt meant because I had never been in love despite my advanced years. 

For months I thought I was hiding what I was from her, but she knew, and she didn’t care.  She wanted to be with me forever, and I realized I wanted that too, but it wasn’t meant to be.  In late April of 1955, I made love to her and then drained her of her blood and fed her mine, but she never woke up.  She lost her way somewhere in between.  Almost 53 years later, she’s still in a coma. 

I have doctors and nurses that watch over her 24/7, but I’ve spent the last 53 years trying to move on because although I still hope and pray that science or a miracle will one day wake her and bring her back to me, history tells me that hope at this point is a wasted emotion. 

I hadn’t told anyone other than my maker and Celeste about Sarah until last December when Sarah’s 93-year-old father, who believed I had murdered his daughter in cold blood, tracked me down and tried to have me killed.  At one point, I flew to New York with the intention of glamouring Mr. Whitley into forgetting all about me and vampires.  Mick and Beth investigated both of us and found me at Sarah’s brownstone, and they had already talked to Mr. Whitley, so I had no choice but to tell them about her. 

Anyway, I figured she would come up in this conversation, so rubbing the back of my neck, I then tell Beth, “I’ve been a vampire for just under 5,383 years, and in that time, I’ve heard of about three dozen other newborns not waking.  My maker also knows of about two and half dozen other occasions that happened long before I was ever born, never mind turned.  So, in 10,000 years of history that’s known to me, approximately 70 or so newborns, including Sarah, have failed to wake.”

Her brows draw together, so I tell her, “You should also know that none of the sires ever had it happen to them twice, and a minimum of 125 years and several new childer had passed since the most recent failed turning before Sarah occurred.”

I shrug and tell her, “One of the best Supernatural Doctors in any dimension thinks they all had silver in their systems before their makers tried to turn them.  I was a wreck when Sarah didn’t wake, so it was hard to tell if I was also suffering from silver poisoning, but Dr. Ludwig accessed Sarah’s medical records and discovered that she had seen the doctor the week before I tried to turn her.  I knew she had had a cold, but I didn’t know that the doctor had prescribed a throat rinse that had silver in it.  It’s the silver in her system that is preventing her from waking, and until Dr. Ludwig figures out how to get the silver out of her body, she’s not apt to wake on her own.”

Beth’s eyes are wide open and round, and my lips tilt up just slightly before I continue my explanation, “I will have Dr. Ludwig examine you thoroughly before I try to turn you.  She’ll make sure you don’t somehow have any silver in your system, or anything else, for that matter, that might hinder you successfully turning.  She’ll make sure that you’re in perfect health and that no unforeseen issues should arise.”

I pause and run a hand through my hair before finishing, “I’m confident that you will turn properly.  It’s why I barely hesitated to re-turn Mick when he asked me to do it.  I knew his years as a vampire would have had him instinctively avoid anything with silver in it, even while human, so the chances were incredibly slim that he’d fall into a coma and never wake up and that slimness of possibility is still true now.  You will wake, I’m confident in that fact.”

She just sits for a minute before asking, “Umm, when do I need to be turned?  I’m guessing there is a set timeline for this to happen.”

I make eye contact with her and tell her, “We have until sunset on Thursday of next week to turn you, and later that night you’ll need to meet Jorge, in part, so that he can confirm that I’ve carried out my sentence but mostly because he’ll want to meet his new grandchilde.”

Her eyes sparkle, and she trembles slightly before she bounces up off her chair, and after nearly floating to her wall calendar hanging beside her bedroom door, she contemplates it for a few seconds.  She flips to February before asking, “How long will it be before I can safely interact with humans?”

Smiling even more fully, I stand and walk to her before placing my hand on her shoulder.  After squeezing gently, I tell her, “I think you’ll need a few weeks at most to get used to your new super sensitive senses but provided you live feed frequently the urge to drain everyone should be controllable within a few days or so.  Though, it’ll be a couple of months before you’ll be able to be in the same room as an open wound and not have to actively force yourself not to react.  All in all, I think your transition will be fairly smooth all things considered.”

I drop my hand from her shoulder when she turns towards me fully and then tell her, “My advanced age should significantly help you with your control of not just your bloodlust but your amplified emotions too.  My maker was 2,111-years-old when he turned me, and my control, strength, and abilities surpassed those of my older blood-sister even though she had been a vampire for 1,576 years when I turned.  That extra power and strength will be your base and every year that you survive will add to the strength of your abilities from there.  Your abilities and control over your bloodlust and your emotions should be through the roof and significantly better than mine were when I was first turned given that I’m turning you after having been a vampire for roughly 5,383 years, give or take a decade or two.”

She snorts and with a smile firmly in place says, “Okay, yay for you being older than dirt.”

I chuckle at that and shrug one shoulder carelessly, so she grins bigger and then glancing at the calendar again, she flips back to January so that she can see the 31st, which is tomorrow. 

Or… I glimpse at the clock on her microwave, and yup it’s after midnight, so technically, today is the last day of January. 

Narrowing her eyes at the calendar as if it will give her all the answers she wants, she asks, “There’s the Dedication tomorrow night, and I really want to go and honor Sarah’s memory, so would Friday work for you?”

I laugh again before telling her, “Make it Saturday or Sunday so you can finish the work week and enjoy a restful day as a human before I go turning you into a vampire.  I imagine you’ll want to spend the day out by one of my three outdoor pools soaking up the sun.  The darker your skin is when you turn, the darker it’ll be for eternity, though it’ll still be paler than you are as a tanned human.  I’ll also arrange for a beautician to come and make sure your body is ready for an eternity of never changing.”

She turns and stares at me and completely ignores my mention of her getting pool time and the beautician, so I just laugh harder at the pout she’s wearing before I tell her, “I think you can wait two or three more days.  You’ll need to either arrange to go on vacation or quit your job.  If you keep your job, I’ll need to glamour several people because you haven’t been working for the D.A.’s Office long enough to have accumulated much in the way of vacation time.”

Her eyes are glowing, and she licks her lips, so I chuckle and tell her, “You’re exceptionally adept at solving mysteries and figuring out who has done what, so if you choose to quit the D.A.’s office, I’m willing to hire you as an investigator for my businesses.”

Her brow furrows, and she’s playing with a loose string hanging off her jacket sleeve, so I tell her, “Given that I’m losing my area investigator due to Mick’s forced exile, I may also name you the Area Two Investigator once you’ve acclimated to your new life.”

Her brow smooths out at that, and her eyes are making direct contact with mine, so I continue explaining her options, “The area investigator position won’t require you to quit the D.A.’s office, though, so it will be yours regardless of which choice you make.  Working for the D.A. might make being the Area Two Investigator easier just because you’ll have access to things you wouldn’t ordinarily legally have access to.”

Her muscles seem to loosen in response and then she moves back to the armchair before sitting.  After crossing her legs, she gazes over her shoulder at me and asks, “Okay, would it be more useful to the, uh, community if I stay in the D.A.’s office for as long as possible?”

I return to the couch and sit down across from her again before I smirk at her and say, “Already thinking like a contributing member of the tribe.  I’m impressed, Beth.  I just told you that you’re going to become a vampire this weekend, and you’re more worried about the benefits to the supernatural world if you continue your employment in the D.A.’s office than the fact that you will soon need to consume human blood to survive.”

She shrugs at that, and a blush blooms on her cheeks, so I chuckle before telling her, “I’ll be sure to mention that to Jorge when he calls me tonight to chastise me for not leaving him any other choice but to punish us.”

She giggles and asks, “He’s going to call and chastise you?  You’re that close to him that he’ll feel it necessary to rebuke you in private?”

I clear my throat and reach up and pull at my collar but don’t respond verbally before she uncrosses and then recrosses her legs and asks, “I assume he kept the rebukes to a minimum in front of others then?”

Nodding, I tell her something I’m not even sure Mick knows despite the events of the evening, “As I said, Jorge is my sire, and we’re extremely close.  Back when I was first released by my maker, witches made daily contact possible because they could teleport a letter to a person of our choosing.  My maker and I have forged strong relationships with many witch lines, so we’ve had that option available to us for longer than I’ve been a vampire.  Spells require energy and pure power, though, so our witches usually teleported a week's worth of letters at a time.” 

She leans her body towards me, and she’s still pulling at that loose string on her sleeve, so I shrug at her and say, “Since the advent of the telegram, however, I’m not sure I’ve ever gone longer than two days without being in touch with him, especially with the advances in technology in recent years.  I talk to, text, or email back and forth with him most days, and we’ve both made a concerted effort to see each other every couple of months.  Advances in travel have helped that as well, and his position as Magister of North America sometimes makes that much easier, and sometimes it makes it harder and I go to him instead.  All in all, we’re about as close as a maker and childe can be after the sire has released the childe.”

She’s still leaning towards me while I talk, so with soft eyes, I tell her, “Celeste, who will be training Mick, is my older blood-sister.  I’m just as close to her, as well, though, we get to see each other more often just because she does freelance investigative work, mostly for the sheriffs and royals of the supernatural world.  Her schedule is a little less bound by the actions of others because, ultimately, she can pick and choose which cases she accepts, so she has full control over who she works for _and_ when she does the work.  Because of those facts, she comes for a visit just about every three or four weeks.”

I let loose a heavy exhale, and my shoulders slump before I tell her, “That will change for the first three centuries that Mick is with her.  You will need to be with me more often than not, and physical separation will deeply bother us both if it lasts for very long, so my visiting with her won’t be able to happen during our forcible separation from Mick.  Once _his_ training has progressed enough, we’ll be able to visit but I’m going to be taking advantage of my unlimited minutes, _and_ my email will undoubtedly break at least once a week due to overuse.”

She snickers briefly before her lips turn down and she then says, “Josef, I never thanked you, both for saving me and for helping Mick not get himself killed trying to rescue me.  I know now that the price was even steeper than I realized at the time, and so I just want you to know that I’m grateful.  I’ll do my best not to make you regret being forced to turn me.”

I pull in a deep breath, and after a satisfied smile grows on my face, I say, “I know, and for the record, I like you, Beth.  I don’t think you realize just how rare it is for me to like a human.  It’s only happened four or five dozen times in my long life.  I offered to turn all of them, and I wound up turning, or in Sarah’s case, trying to turn, close to a quarter of them, though only nine, including Sarah and Mick, still exist.  Anyway, I’m not particularly upset that you’re going to be my childe.”

Ha, that’s the understatement of my _entire_ existence.  I’m not particularly upset?  If I didn’t think it would cost me dearly, I’d be shouting my joy from the rooftops and doing a jig for all to see.  I’m not sure it’s a great idea for her to know the full extent of my pleasure over this turn of events, though.  However, I want mostly to be honest with her because secrets will fester between a sire and his childe. 

I brace myself for an adverse reaction and tell her something that I hope won’t upset her but realistically might do just that, “If I hadn’t known it would drive a wedge between Mick and me, I would have already offered anyway.”

Her eyes widen to the size of Frisbees, and her jaw is hanging open a little.  She’s still leaning towards me, and she’s not yelling and screaming or even huffing. 

I breathe out an audible breath and then tell her, “I’ll be brutally honest with you, and maybe tell you more than I should at this point, but my high regard of you is enough that I would have eventually suffered the wedge just to make sure you didn’t grow old and die.”

I give her a minute to absorb that bombshell, and when she smiles, I grin back.  The corners of my lips tilt even farther up when she says, “Um, wow, okay, uh, I like you, too, Josef, and thank you.  I’m sure that you admitting you like a human is even rarer than you liking one of us.”

I exhale an audible breath that she took that news as well as I could have possibly hoped for and when she winks at me I chuckle and then change the subject back to the original one and tell her, “Going back to earlier this evening, all things considered, my maker barely rebuked us at all, or me anyhow.  Mick wouldn’t keep his mouth shut or his opinions to himself, so he got more attitude from Jorge.  If I wasn’t his childe and on incredibly excellent terms with him, Jorge would have ordered your death to punish Mick for his insubordination tonight and then forced Mick to turn multiple strangers to make up for Anders and his two goons.”

I pause and rub the back of my neck before telling her, “Of course, keep in mind that this is the first time since I became a vampire that I’ve been called before my sire or any other Magister as a defendant in his court.  If it happens again, he’ll go harder than normal on us instead of easier.  Understand that this is our one get-out-of-jail-relatively-free card.  It won’t happen again, so learn your lessons and do everything in your power not to break our laws.”

She twists her hands in her lap and says, “I will Josef, I won’t let you down.”

I lean forward and place my hand over hers and tell her, “I know you won’t.”

I pause, and then my lips turn down, and I continue the thought, “I regret that Mick’s feelings will be hurt and that his opinion on your continued mortality is being completely disregarded.  However, like I said, I don’t regret that you will be my childe.  I think you were born to be a vampire, much like Jorge thought I was.  I also think that you’ll take to it better than I did because I was a bit more like Mick is than I am now.  Celeste and Jorge showed me that being a vampire is what I make of it.  Just like they’ll show Mick, and while they likely won’t make him torture or kill humans like they’ve been known to do themselves, they will show him that he’s not human and that he needs to stop pretending that he is.”

Her lips thin out slightly and then she lowers her voice as if she’s worried someone will overhear her and says, “I always thought Mick’s lack of self-acceptance was more of a hindrance than a help and it’s not healthy for him _or_ those closest to him.”

I nod in a lazy fashion before telling her, “I agree wholeheartedly.  Now, I hate to say it, but even if Mick isn’t currently trying to run, which he may very well be, I don’t think he’ll be going to the dedication tomorrow night.  I don’t want to hurt your feelings either, but I’m certain based on my almost 53 years of friendship with him that he’ll bury his face in the sand and ignore everything that’s happening that he doesn’t like or approve of.  As a result, I’m sure that the next time you see him will be 300 years from now or at least a few decades from now.  Try not to take it personally.”

She frowns and tells me, “ _That’s_ easier said than done.”

I compress my lips and lift my eyebrows towards my hairline at that before shrugging slightly. 

She sighs a moment later and asks, “He refused to see me, didn’t he?”

I just nod once, so she uncrosses her legs and leans back in her seat.  She tilts her head against the back of the chair and puts her hands on top of her head allowing her elbows to block my view of her eyes.

I’m not sure how to make this better for her, so I don’t say anything.

A few minutes later she asks, “He can’t care for vampire me, can he?”

Although her forearms muffle her words, I understand her perfectly, so I release a burst of air and sticking to my decision to tell her the truth I say, “Yes, he’s afraid that’s true, and I think it is, too.”

She breathes out a sharp breath and says through her forearms, “At least I know that up front.” She pauses and then lowers her arms to the armrests, so she can see me and says, “Thank you for being straight with me.”

I reach out and touch her hand again and tell her, “I’ve decided to tell you the truth whenever possible.”

She flips her hand and squeezes mine before she moves her hands to her lap and clasps her fingers loosely, but before she can verbally respond, my phone rings. 

Taking it out of my pocket, I frown and tell her, “It’s my maker.  He wouldn’t be calling tonight unless it’s an emergency.  Given what we know, it probably has to do with Mick, so I have to answer it,” and then while she stares at me with wide eyes, I press send and put the phone to my ear.

My sire doesn’t give me the chance to greet him before he says, “Childe, where are you?”

I smirk slightly at the fact that he had three of his people follow Mick, but apparently, he had enough faith in me not to have me tailed.  I release a forceful breath, though, because I’m sure I’m not going to like the rest of this conversation, so I grip my phone slightly tighter and tell him, “I’m still at Beth’s house.  She just got home, and I’ve been explaining what’s happened tonight.”

He exhales but asks, “She is with you and not on her way to meet St. John?”

My gut says my maker is calling with unwelcome news, so I breathe deeply and rub the back of my neck with my free hand before telling him, “Yes, as you most likely know, Mick left before Beth got home so I could speak to her alone.”

I can hear the frown in his voice not to mention the simmering anger when he says, “Good.  At least two of you are behaving.”

Shit, clearly Mick _has_ been misbehaving just like my gut thought he might.  I pinch the bridge of my nose with my free hand and vocalize my curiosity even though I’m not sure I want the answer, “What has Mick done now?”

Jorge’s sneer is now apparent when he tells me, “What he does best, disobey direct orders.  Give me Ms. Turner’s address, and I’ll come to you and tell you both what has happened.”

Crap that can’t be good.  Still, I obey orders when they come from my betters, so I tell my maker Beth’s address, and then he tells me, “I’ll be there in under 10 minutes.”

I’m frowning at the undercurrent of heat running through my maker’s words, and then I hang up after he disconnects the call.

I continue to frown the entire time while I tell Beth what my maker said after which she fidgets in her seat for a few moments.  After looking around her living room for a second or two, she springs from her armchair and grabs the glass of water and the empty plate off the side table.  She walks into the kitchen and places them in the sink.

After returning to the living room, she grabs her sweater off the back of the couch and then gazes down at me looking up at her and asks, “What could Mick have possibly done in an hour’s time?”

I shrug but tell her, “I don’t know.  I’ve had a bad feeling ever since we left the warehouse district.  Throw in what you told me about Mick telling you to stay away from your home until he told you it was safe and the fact that he texted you several times before you got here, and I’m relatively sure he’s running even though you haven’t responded to his text messages.  The fact that you and I are obeying and are willing to follow my maker’s commands will bode well for us, but whatever Mick has done it won’t end well for _him.”_  

If her phone had worked, she undoubtedly would have gone and met him, so I send up a prayer, _‘Thank you, Goddess, for malfunctioning phones.’_  

I don’t say that out loud, though, so she just frowns at me.  I smile what I hope is a reassuring grin before I continue the lesson on all things regarding my maker and his moods, “Jorge has a vein on the side of his forehead and let’s just say that if it pops out, your best bet is to fall to your knees and beg forgiveness.  I’m 90% certain based on his tone of voice that it was popping out while I was talking to him.”

Her eyes are wide while her lip quivers and she sort of jerks her head up and down in quick motions, so I grab her hand and pull her down to sit beside me.  Once she’s settled, I put my free hand on her knee and squeeze before telling her, “Just be respectful, and everything will be fine.”

Her hands sort of twitch in a jerky manner, and I figure I have only a minute or two before Jorge arrives.  I soften my gaze and pat her hand before giving her all of the information she might need to impress my maker, “The fact that he’s coming here, _and_ that he called you ‘Ms. Turner’ and not ‘my human’ or ‘my future childe’ instead, means that he’s happy that you’re going to be of his line.  However, while you’re still human, he will have an incredibly low opinion of you simply because you’re human and not a vampire yet.  I know it will be difficult for you, but I need you to do your best not to speak unless one of us talks to you first.”

She’s nodding until I get to the part about staying quiet.  Then she frowns and swings her head back and forth with a bit of force before saying, “I’ll try Josef, but you know just as well as anyone that I’ve never been any good at keeping my mouth shut.  That’s something you’re going to need to teach me, that, and I want to learn your poker-face.”

I laugh at that and then sit straighter when I hear my maker say through the door, “At least _this_ childe will be worthy of our blood.”  I put my finger to my lips just before he knocks a moment later.

My maker will want to make an entrance, so I lean towards her and in a soft voice say, “Invite him in, Beth.”

Her slight smile wavers, but she doesn’t question the timing and dutifully says, “I invite my future grandsire into my home.”

That wording should work, and I’m sure Jorge is pleased by her explicit acceptance of her future as my childe, so I grin and motion for her to stay seated. 

Before I get up and answer the door for Beth, I give her knee another gentle squeeze and then stand and walk to the door.  She stands too, and after placing her sweater down behind her on the couch, she folds her hands in front of her but says nothing.  Glancing at her over my shoulder I wink and then unlock and pull open the door.

Jorge comes in and stops about 10 feet from her and just stares at her for a few minutes.  I stare at the clock on the table to her left behind her and count the minutes. 

What does she think while she stares into his eyes?  What does she think of him while he comes into the room like he owns the place?  I’m 5,408 years old, and I have yet to gain as much confidence as he exudes just standing there, but I figure by the time I’m his age I’ll be just as confident, which is saying something because, really, I don’t lack for confidence at all.

He’s still wearing his suit jacket, but between when we left the warehouse and now, he took off his tie and unbuttoned his top button.  She doesn’t know that he was wearing a tie earlier or what it means that he’s not wearing it now, but that’s significant. 

He definitely approves of her entering his line, or he would be presenting himself in as formal a manner as possible.  Only his family gets to see him dressed down and while, to most, he still appears dressed up, _he_ definitively considers this dressed down.

He’s never been in Mick’s presence without a neat and tight tie in place, so I release an inaudible breath that he didn’t even know her other than what I’ve told him, and he’s already formed a favorable opinion of her. 

I worried that his open disapproval of Mick and my friendship with him might have meant that I had damaged Jorge’s trust in my ability to correctly figure out who is and is not worthy of me and our line.  Clearly, he’s viewing Mick and our friendship as a rare lapse in judgment and not an indication that my judgment has been permanently impaired.

Beth stands still and holds his gaze for the first three minutes, but then she glances away briefly and begins to fidget again before returning her eyes to him.

She shifts on her feet a couple of times, and my maker laughs lightly and turns his scrutiny on me before saying, “She lasted longer than you did that first time we met.”

I grin and wink at her again behind his back before I close the door.  She lowers her sparkling cobalt eyes slightly but says nothing. 

Jorge’s cloud-grey eyes glow while he says, “And despite her concern that she wouldn’t be able to hold her tongue she’s still managing.  I almost want to punish you, Josef, for not turning her on your own.”

Beth’s eyes widen at that before he tells me, “Don’t worry, though, I know St. John would not have reacted favorably to that, and you would have had to formally challenge him to gain the right to turn her, so I will overlook your failure to bring this woman into our line sooner.”

Her jaw slides open at that, and I’m sure by her physical reaction that she realizes what a compliment he just paid her.  I smile wide enough to show all my teeth and tell him, “Thank you, Sire.”

A satisfied grin spreads across his face before he walks farther into the room and sits in the armchair Beth sat in earlier.  He crosses his legs, and after resting his arms on the armrests of the chair, he glances at me over his shoulder and tells us, “My children, come sit.”

The good news is that he just claimed us _both,_ so Beth most definitely has his full approval.  The bad news is that he’s frowning, and his vein is bulging in his forehead ever so slightly, and neither of those things is ever a good sign.

If Beth thinks my poker-face is impressive, it’s nothing compared to my maker’s because I learned mine from him.  Mine strongly pales in comparison, so the fact that he’s showing his tell right now can only be a testament to how angry he truly is.

I return to the couch, and we sit before Beth reaches over and grabs my hand causing Jorge’s lips to tilt upward at that.  It’s an excellent sign that when she’s my childe, she’ll turn to me not only for guidance but for comfort, too, which is how it should be.

My maker clears his throat, and after his storm-cloud grey-blue eyes meet mine, he tells us, “I’m afraid, children, that I have some unwelcome news.  Thirty minutes ago, St. John threw a suitcase into the backseat of his Mercedes and then spent 10 minutes leading my people on a wild goose chase before he successfully lost them.  I’m not one to make assumptions lightly, but the evidence is strong that St. John chose to run instead of obeying my commands, which just reinforces my belief that he should not be left to his own devices.”

He pauses and then with a frown on his face he says, “He is officially in the wind, and I have declared him a rogue.  My next step, if my people don’t manage to pick up his trail in the next hour or so, will be to call a blood hunt so that all supernaturals will be searching for him.  I will, of course, make it clear that he’s to be brought in alive, wouldn’t want to deprive myself of being able to publicly try him for his crimes, after all.”

Dammit, all to Hell.  What is Mick thinking?  Okay, stupid question.  He’s thinking that if he runs, he has a chance at remaining free instead of being beholden to Celeste, but now that he’s run he’ll be lucky if he gets to keep his life once they find him, and they _will_ find him. 

Jorge could, theoretically, argue that Mick has a habit of disobeying his superiors often enough to make ending him a viable option, and violating the direct orders of the North American Magister is not going to help his cause once he’s caught. 

I know there is extraordinarily little I can do to help him now, and, honestly, I’m unwilling to disobey my maker, so there isn’t much I _would_ do to help him.  When he’s caught, and make no mistake, they _will_ catch him, I’ll argue for him to remain alive, but there’s no guarantee that the other officials involved in making that decision will agree with me that he’s worth the effort to save.

Jorge frowns more deeply and tells me, “Childe, I’ll need everything you know about the details of all of St. John’s identities and account numbers.”

Like I said, I am unwilling to disobey my sire even for Mick, so I sigh and then tell him, “I’ll have Vincent get you the file.” 

I take out my phone and text Vincent telling him, “I’ll explain what’s going on later, but Mick has been declared rogue.  Collect everything we have on him and send it to the Magister’s office.  Leave nothing out.”

As an afterthought, I send him a second text that says, “Also send everything we have on Logan Griffen, too.”

Vincent texts back, “Will do both now.”

I let out a heavy breath but tell my maker, “Vincent is gathering everything we have and will send it to your office asap.  You should also go talk to Logan Griffen.  Vincent is also gathering everything I have on him.  He’s a hacker friend of Mick’s that I’m not directly connected to.  I think he turned in the 1970’s, and he’s extremely loyal to Mick, so you might need to impress upon him the fact that not cooperating could cost him his own life.”

My maker just barely imperceptibly clenches his jaw, and his vein pulses with his vampire-slow heartbeat, so at the risk of further annoying him, I tell him, “Mick told Beth to stay away from her home tonight until he told her it was safe.  Her phone malfunctioned, and she chose to come home anyway.  The fact that he managed to run so soon after your judgment coupled with his words to Beth this afternoon tells me that he set up the plan to run even before we stood trial tonight.  If that’s the case, then he more than likely had Logan handle the details in advance so that I won’t be able to help you find him.”

Jorge nods so I release a quick breath and tell him, “I can have Rider freeze all the accounts I know about and begin searching for any others that Mick and Logan may have created.  In fact, Rider is planning to return to the States this week under a new identity, so if you seize all of Logan’s equipment I can have Rider examine it.”

My maker’s expression pinches before he says, “Do it.”

He removes his cell from his suit pocket and begins texting someone, and I use my phone to text Rider while I assume my sire is texting his staff with Logan’s name.  My only hope is that Logan will cooperate and not get himself into trouble to protect Mick.

I text Rider and tell him, “Mick’s been declared rogue, freeze every account you can find belonging to him and see what you can dig up regarding identities he might use while on the run.  Also, when you arrive in L.A., let me know because I’m going to have multiple computers for you to sort through.”

Rider texts back, “Mick’s rogue?  Never mind, I’ll get the details later.  I’ll freeze everything now.  _My_ new identity is already prepared and ready for use, so I’ll bump my flight up to the one that leaves this morning if you want me to.”

I exhale loudly even though he can’t hear it and tell him, “Thank you.  The sooner you get here, the sooner we can keep Mick from getting himself killed.”

A few seconds later he sends me a thumbs up, so I glance away from my phone and sit back and think over what my maker has just told us.  Of all the stupid, harebrained things for Mick to do.  _‘Thank you to anyone who might listen to the prayers of vampires for the fact that Beth’s phone malfunctioned, and Mick didn’t get a chance to try to take her with him.’_

Beth reaches over and grabs my hand again, squeezing just as tightly as I imagine she physically can, and if I were human, I’d be worried about her breaking my bones.  She shifts in her seat on the couch and then asks, “What are you—”

Her mouth snaps closed for a moment, and her eyes close briefly.  When they open she frowns and says, “Sorry, both of you, I really tried to keep my mouth shut.  Ignore me.”

I chuckle and then tell her, “You lasted longer than I thought you could, _and_ you caught it yourself, so that’s a good start.”

Jorge raises an eyebrow ever so slightly and says, “The fact that she caught it _is_ impressive for a human.”

I squeeze her hand gently, and Beth’s muscles and stance relax.  Jorge’s eyes sparkle with pleasure making _me_ relax exponentially.

Uncrossing his legs my sire sits forward before asking, “Have you discussed when you’ll be turning her?”

I don’t have to school my features in front of my maker, so I allow a pleased grin to slowly grow on my face, and my gaze softens before I explain our plans, “We have the dedication tomorrow night, and she feels it would be beneficial to the community if she keeps her job in the D.A.’s office.  I agree, so she needs to arrange a leave of absence.  I will glamour whomever necessary to provide her with the time off that she will need right after turning.  We think Saturday or Sunday night will be best, and we’ll pick which day depending on exactly how many people I need to glamour.  We’re shooting for Saturday, but we’re willing to be flexible.”

He clamps his lips together like he did earlier tonight, and I resist the urge to pout that he’s so obviously amused by me.  He needs to be in the right frame of mind to abide by playful pouting or whining, and Mick has assured that Jorge is most definitely not in the mood for that sort of thing right now, so I keep my playful annoyance to myself before he says, “Excellent.  I’m sure I don’t have to warn you both what disobeying will do.”

My playfulness flies out the window, and no, he definitely doesn’t need to warn us, or me at least, and I’ll do my best to keep Beth from ever experiencing that sort of pain. 

My maker is not in the habit of having people disobey him, so when they do, he usually introduces them to the skills he learned while he was one of the leaders of the Inquisition.  I am sure that once Jorge’s people catch Mick, he will be in for a world of hurt in the coming future. 

That’s confirmed when my sire says, “You should know, however, that once I find him, St. John will discover what happens to those who openly disobey me.  He’ll get a good dose of torture.  Then he will be forced to turn someone of my choosing every three to five centuries for fifteen hundred years and his term of exile and time with Celeste will be expanded to a millennium.”

Damn.  Mick’s not going to be happy having to turn anyone, never mind three to five humans, especially because Jorge will be the one choosing them. 

I exhale a slow breath at the knowledge that I won’t be seeing much of my best friend for the next thousand years.  300 years would have gone by in a flash and would have barely registered, mainly because I would have been busy teaching Beth everything she needs to know about surviving in the supernatural world.  A thousand years though?  _That_ we will notice. 

Goddess, depending on how quickly they find him I’ll be at least 6,408 years old when his exile ends.  If only he had taken my advice to heart and not run.

His future punishments are about the best we could have asked for because a flagrant disregard for the orders of a Magister or the members of the Authority is grounds for death.  Even a king, queen, or sheriff can petition for permission to end a vampire who habitually disobeys commands and orders. 

Jorge, especially, has little patience for those who don’t obey their betters, so he usually calls for a vote, and no one who values their position votes against Jorge.  Then he’d kill Mick and have vampires he trusts turn several humans to compensate for the loss of Anders, his goons, _and_ Mick.  The fact that he isn’t doing that is significant, and I’m sure my feelings about my best friend’s death are the only reason he’s not ordering Mick ended.

I grimace slightly and tell my maker, “I know that Mick’s continued existence will be, at least, in part, because of my friendship with him, so thank you, Sire.”

Beth sits straighter, and her mouth opens but then snaps shut, and she slouches slightly.

Jorge doesn’t acknowledge Beth’s apparent internal struggle to keep her questions to herself and instead frowns and tells me, “I may not like him, but I know how much he means to you, Childe, so I will give him one last chance.  However, if Celeste can’t fix him in 10 centuries, I _will_ order him ended so be prepared for that.”

Beth gasps but manages not to say anything, and my shoulders slump, so Jorge lets out a hefty breath and says, “I just wanted to ascertain that St. John hadn’t infected either of you with a tendency for delinquency.”

He stands and then says, “Josef, I will call you later tonight to discuss the stupidity of allowing your childe, re-turn or not, to talk you into killing any vampire for personal reasons.  You should have negotiated with Anders.  You were older than him by almost five millennia, _and_ you were his sheriff, so he would have given Ms. Turner to you once you both knew the other was a vampire.”

I rub the bridge of my nose and tell him, “I know.  I apologize for my temporary lapse in judgment, Sire.  It won’t happen again.”

His grin is that soft one that’s reserved for his childer, “I know.  You’re 5,408 years old, and this is the first stupidity you’ve exhibited since the first six months after I turned you.  Everyone makes foolish decisions from time to time, but I’ve been exceptionally fortunate that all five of my surviving childer have made a habit of avoiding such behavior through the years.”

I wave my hand in front of me as if I’m pushing away his words and tell him, “It has nothing to do with luck, Master, and everything to do with you and Celeste doing right by me and training my blood-siblings and me to be proper vampires.  You both made sure that I knew the laws backward and forward, and you inspired and continue to inspire me to want to please you in everything I do.”

Beth’s straight posture and crisp nod match the softening of my maker’s eyes, so I finish my point and tell him, “I have avoided stupidity, not because of good fortune for either of us but because you instilled a desire in me to want to make _you_ proud of everything I do.  After all, I know very well that even after you released me just over 5,000 years ago, my actions still reflect upon you, and I would sooner kill myself than bring dishonor upon our line and you in particular.  I regret that I failed in that mission.”

His facial features soften even more before he reaches for my shoulder giving it a pat or two, which is his equivalent of a bear hug and about as affectionate as he will get in front of someone who is not of his line.  He’s not incredibly demonstrative, but he has been known to hug me on rare occasions, so once Beth turns, he’ll possibly embrace me in front of her when the mood strikes.  However, until she’s a vampire of his line, hugging me would be, in Jorge’s opinion, a far too public display of affection. 

My sire has a gleam in his eyes when he tells me, “One poor decision in 5,383 years is an excellent track record, Childe, and I do not fault you for making a mistake.  That’s not to say that I don’t sincerely hope and fully expect you to learn from this situation and not repeat the gaffe, but I am willing to forgive you for your temporary lapse in judgment.”

I let loose a forceful breath at the fact that he forgives me for the shame I have brought upon him and his line.  He squeezes my shoulder and then walks towards the door.  When he reaches it, he turns towards us, but before he can speak Beth asks, “May I say something, Sir?”

We both smile, though, probably for slightly different reasons.  I’m grinning because Beth is reflecting positively on me.  Her turning may be the result of an order from my maker as punishment, but he knows I wanted to turn her anyway, so her exemplary behavior shows him that I carefully thought out and considered her worthiness before admitting my desire to make her my childe.

_His_ smile is perhaps two-fold, one he’s likely impressed that a human could manage to behave as well as Beth has tonight without extensive training involving multiple regular and incredibly painful punishments.  Two, he’s presumably pleased that such a human is going to be his grandchilde.

His eyes soften and sparkle a bit, but he doesn’t deny her request, so the corners of her lips rise ever so slightly in a little grin back before she tells us both, “I hope to learn to live by the same rules Josef lives by.  I want to do you both proud, and I promise I’ll do my level best to live up to both of your expectations for as long as I exist.”

She pauses, and I wonder that she managed to further impress us both.  However, she’s not done, so she draws a substantial breath and then continues her thought, “And on a personal note, I just want you to know that I’m honored to have had this opportunity to meet you while I’m still human.  I gather that’s rare, and so I just want you to know that I appreciate that you came and told Josef what Mick has done with me in attendance.  I recognize the honor you showed me by doing that, and I hope to follow Josef’s good example and make you proud to call me your grandchilde.”

She’s already well on her way to making us both proud to call her ours. 

Jorge allows a slow, satisfied smile to spread across his face before he glances at me and tells me, “Josef when I call, we will also have words about why you failed to bring this extraordinary human into our line without my prompting you to do so.”

Beth beams at him and the obvious compliment intended for her.  I shrug and tell him, “I’ll explain in further detail later, but she was technically Mick’s human, so I had been working on convincing Mick to do it himself.  I can see now that that would have been a futile endeavor, but I had planned to at least give him the opportunity to turn her himself before I made moves to formally challenge his claim over her.”

Beth stands straighter at that little tidbit, and her eyes are wider than usual, and her mouth is slightly gaping open.  I realize too late that she didn’t fully understand me before when I said I would have suffered the wedge between Mick and myself and offered to turn her.  She doesn’t say anything though, which is undoubtedly for the best. 

I stare at her for a minute, and then I glance at my maker and continue, “But know that I knew how extraordinary she was from the first day I met her, and I was scheming as my maker taught me to in an effort to bring her into our ranks without ruining all of our lives.  All things considered, this is likely the best outcome we could have hoped for.  Mick thinks Beth and I have no choice but for me to turn her and there’s nothing he can do to stop what’s to happen.  He also won’t be able to avenge her human life either, so he won’t force my hand and make me defend myself, which is the sole reason I haven’t challenged him for her already.  Neither Beth nor I would be satisfied if he died because of her becoming my childe.  As it stands, he might end up finally dead, but it won’t be me who lands the killing blow, and it’ll be a direct result of his bad behavior and not my desire to make his human mine.”

Jorge frowns at me and asks, “I expected as much, but is it wise to tell _her_ that?”  He jerks his head towards Beth when he says ‘her.’

I meet his eyes directly and tell him, “She’s loyal, and she appreciates brutal honesty more than pretty words.  It is my humble opinion that she will respond better to us and what we teach her if we are upfront and honest with her whenever possible.  Just as you rarely keep things from my blood-siblings or me, I intend to tell her everything I can without endangering anyone we care about.”

My sire almost grins before patting my shoulder again and telling me below humanly audible decibels, “You make me proud, Childe.”

Now _I_ beam at him.  He pats my shoulder a final time, bows slightly towards Beth, and then opens the door and strides out of her apartment.


	4. A New Day Dawns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the bottom of the chapter for notes about two ideas that I used in this chapter and where I got them from as well as some details regarding Josef’s home and art collection.

****

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Chapter 004**

**A New Day Dawns**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Thursday, January 31, 2008; 12:45 a.m. PST**

**Beth’s Apartment, Los Angeles, California**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

After my maker leaves, Beth practically deflates, and her shoulders sag before she releases a shuddering breath.  Her smile is shaky, but she asks, “Is it just me or did that go much better than it could have?”

I laugh and put my arm around her before I lead her back to the couch while I tell her, “That went about as well as it possibly could have, Blondie.”

She has a slight tremor, and her legs seem a little rubbery, possibly from an adrenaline crash, so I help her sit before she says, “I like him.  I think I’m going to learn a lot from both of you.”

_My_ hands tremble slightly so I shove them into my pants pockets and tell her, “He likes you too, or he wouldn’t have even acknowledged you when you asked to speak, which it was brilliant of you to ask for permission to talk.  He didn’t show it outwardly, but I know him well enough to know that he loved that.”

She smiles a soft little grin, so I jut my chin towards her once and tell her, “Then add in what you said and, well, I think you’re going to thrive in this life.  You have a knack for it that is rare among humans in this day and age.  Generally, that understanding and ability to behave that way doesn’t come naturally.  People learn them, but it takes time and patience on the part of both teacher and student.  You already have a solid foundation, though, that I’ll be able to build upon, and probably pretty easily at that.”

She flops back in her seat, so I sit beside her and turn to face her before grasping her hand in mine and addressing a few matters that I want resolved tonight, “Beth, I would like for you to accompany me to the dedication tomorrow night as my date.”

Her eyes get big, and she grins wide enough to show teeth before she asks, “ _The_ Josef Kostan doesn’t have a date to his own event?”

I laugh and shake my head at her wide innocent eyes and her arched brow before telling her, “I was going to bring a freshie with me, but I’d prefer not to have you too far from me at any given time.  I don’t really trust Mick not to try and kidnap you.”

She grimaces and inhales a shaky breath, so I squeeze her hand in mine and tell her, “He could have arranged for someone else to do it, too, either in the time before he ran, or he could still do it while on the run so that means you could be in danger from any number of unknown individuals.  The fact that he told you not to be here tonight tells me that he knew your human life was at risk.  That means that he had the two days since I told him of the summons to make plans and backup plans.”

Her eyes are vacant while she stares off into space, so I let loose a tremulous sigh and tell her, “Mick’s smart enough to realize that a single plan might fail, so he likely has multiple plans in place, and he’s had more than enough time to utilize any number of resources available to him.  You need to understand that if you disappear, my maker’s poor opinion of humans will cause him to assume that it was of your own free will and that would make your life forfeit…”

Her eyes focus on my face an instant later and then she sighs dejectedly at what I just said but says, “Okay, I’ll go with you, but is that going to piss off your, uh, freshie?”

She pauses then with a quirk of her lips she asks, “I, ah, assume that word means a person who feeds you fresh blood, uh, from the vein?”

When she agrees to go with me, some of the tension in my shoulders and body loosen.  I inhale a deep cleansing breath and then tell her, “Yes, our regular and recurring donors are referred to by vampires as freshies.  The two-natured and other members of the supernatural community occasionally call them ‘fangbangers,’ but that’s considered a derogatory term.  You shouldn’t use it, but you should know what it is just in case you hear someone else say it.  ‘Freshie,’ however, is the politically correct term and freshies themselves even use that word.”

She just stares at me, though, she’s frowning a tiny bit, and her leg is bouncing before she stills and sits straighter and asks, “Two-natured?”

My grin widens a little while I feed her never-ending need for information and tell her, “Yes, the term two-natured refers to three groups of people.  There are the werewolves whom we call weres.  Then there are those who can shift into any animal at will, whom we refer to as shifters.  Lastly, there are those who shift into a single animal other than wolves.  We usually call the latter a were-whatever, so if they’re a panther, then they’re called a were-panther.  A horse would be a were-horse, a tiger a were-tiger.  The two-natured are sometimes just called their animal, so wolf, tiger, etc., too.”

She’s sitting on the edge of her seat and smiling so widely I’m almost afraid her face will break before she starts firing away questions, “What are they like?  Do they only, err, shift, with the full moon or can they shift anytime they want?  Are they dangerous, like to humans?  Do I know any?  Can I meet—”

I chuckle and place my finger over her lips before telling her, “They’re just like everyone else except the night before, the night of, and the night after a full moon they are required to shift into their animal.”

Her eyes are bright, and she’s leaning towards me while I talk so I shrug and tell her, “The stronger ones can shift at will, day or night, regardless of the phase of the moon, but those with weaker blood can only shift at night and closer to the full moon.”

Her eyes narrow and her brows furrow, so I say, “They, like vampires, are dangerous to humans in certain circumstances.  They don’t feed on humans like we do, so they’re probably less of a threat.  However, although most shifters and weres retain their human minds while they shift, their baser instincts are sharper while in animal form.  If you ever find yourself alone with one who has shifted, and you act in any way that could cause the were to perceive you as prey, then you’ll be in as much danger as you’d be with a wild animal.”

She just keeps staring at me with slightly narrowed eyes.  I square my shoulders and tell her something that Mick and I have kept from her up until now, “I’m guessing based on the incredibly faint whisper of shifter scent that I can still smell in your apartment that you have had one here in the last month or so.  The scent was stronger when I was here last week, so he or she hasn’t been here in a couple of weeks.”

Her mouth opens to undoubtedly ask a multitude of questions, so I hold up my hand to forestall them and tell her, “Mick has mentioned smelling shifter in your apartment on multiple occasions.  According to him none of the people he’s met from your life have smelled of shifter themselves, so I have no idea who it is, but I’m sure given a little time you’ll figure it out.  Once you’re my childe, you’ll be able to smell it on all but the most powerful of shifters because only supreme supernatural shifters, those who can shift into any type of creature, animal, human, or supernatural can hide their scent.  Supreme supernatural shifters are extraordinarily rare, though, as in for every 13 or 14 million humans you might have one supreme supernatural shifter.”

She’s still leaning in towards me, so I squeeze her hand again and tell her, “My area is the second largest in North America by population.  There are maybe five or six supreme supernatural shifters that I’m aware of who call my area home, and experience tells me there are likely two or three others that have stayed off my radar.  Really, the word rare isn’t strong enough because if there are 6.8 Billion people in the world, then there are only around 525 supreme supernatural shifters currently in existence in this dimension.  Therefore, I am certain that you will have minimal difficulty smelling it on whichever of your friends is a shifter simply because I doubt one of the supreme supernatural shifters in my area is our mystery shifter.”

She tips her head to the left, so I say, “Finally, you’re to be my childe, and I interact with shifters on a near daily basis, so you’ll meet many of the two-natured in the coming years.  In fact, my chef that I keep on the payroll to feed my live-in staff is a wear-bear, and I know you’ll be meeting her in the coming days.”

She’s the consummate investigator, always thinking of questions and figuring out mysteries, so I know she wants more answers.  Unfortunately for her, we don’t really have time right now to hash it all out, so I tell her, “I’m sure you have a ton of other questions.  However, sunrise is getting closer and closer, and although I can spend limited amounts of time in the sun, doing so drains our energy, and too much _will_ kill my kind.  It’s been a stressful night so far, and that would make the sun’s rays drain me quicker, so I’d rather get some time in my freezer before I go spending time in the daylight.  So, I’ll answer all your questions about the two-natured later, okay?”

She pouts which prompts me to laugh lightly.  She just stares at me barely blinking, though, her pout is still prominently displayed, so I pat her hand that remains in mine with my free one before telling her, “Back to my freshie, I’ll ask my maker to take Simone instead.  He was planning to go alone, so he might be willing to save me the hassle of an upset freshie.  The fact that I’m making the change to protect my future childe should go a long way with him, so I’m hopeful he’ll agree.”

She smiles at that, so I sit slightly straighter and square my shoulders.  She notices my subtle movement and her muscles tense, so I work at slouching a little to help ease her possible anxiety, and then I address the other issue I want to resolve tonight and tell her, “I’d like you to pack a bag with several weeks’ worth of clothes.  I think you should come to stay with me until a.) we know that you’re safe from Mick’s machinations, b.) we’re confident that you can control your urges and c.) we both feel comfortable being separated for periods of time.”

I pause and use my free hand and run it through my hair before I tell her, “That last part will mean that you’ll probably end up living with me for the foreseeable future, so I’ll have someone come and collect anything that you want during your stay if you forget something.  Or if you don’t need whatever it is right away, we can come together after you have your urges under control.”

Her eyes brighten, so I take a relaxing breath and meet her cerulean eyes before telling her, “The urge to be close will have to do with my blood inside of you calling to me and your human blood being inside of me calling to you.  As we drink from other humans regularly, our bodies will absorb each other’s blood more fully, and the need to be right next to each other will slowly diminish.”

Her eyes are narrowed but she doesn’t say anything, so I tell her, “A few months down the line we can talk about whether you want to keep your apartment or officially move in with me.  But the truth is that I was well over 1,000 when I noticed that I didn’t feel, for lack of a better way to put it, itchy whenever I wasn’t near my maker.  Before that day, I had always had this underlying itch that wouldn’t go away unless my sire was near.”

She’s not really blinking, and now her eyes are wide and round like dinner plates, but I continue my explanation, “Anyway be prepared to want to be near me for just as long at least.  Probably longer because for some reason when a maker and childe are not of the same sex, the effect seems to last longer.  For example, I had been a vampire for just over 1,400 years when my separation from Jorge didn’t drive me to distraction.  However, I was just over 575 years old when Celeste mentioned that she didn’t feel that itch anymore and she has been a vampire almost 1,600 years longer than I have.  That means she was over 2,100 when she didn’t get twitchy being parted from him.”

I’m just glad that Beth and I are so compatible.  I can’t see her getting too annoying being in close quarters with me for the next couple thousand years, in fact, I’m looking forward to the opportunity to get to know her better and unravel the mystery that is Beth Turner.  I think she has seriously hidden and unbelievably deep depths that will take millennia for me to fully explore and I can’t wait to start.

She has a relaxed posture throughout my entire explanation about the mysterious itch.  Still, I expected her to argue about moving in with me, so my eyes widen when she merely inhales and then exhales what is probably meant to be a cleansing breath and then hops to her feet before going into her bedroom and calling out, “It’ll just take me 10 or so minutes to be ready to go.”

Standing, I follow her into her room and ask, “You’re not going to argue about needing your freedom or your own space?”

Her face turns rosy, and she chuckles lightly, and with a broad smile on her face, she says, “First, you’re the expert on what a new vampire will need.  If you say I need to be with my maker for at least the first couple of months but possibly much, much longer than that, then I’m going to do that without arguing.  Secondly, I’ll have my own space, no?  I mean, I assume you’ll give me a room of my own, and I’ll be able to go hide in there anytime I need space.  I might ask for an office depending on the setup of your house and available space, but I’m pretty laid-back Josef.  Furthermore, I trust you.  I trust you to take care of me, and I trust you to teach me what I need to know to be a good and happy vampire.”

That’s slightly unexpected, not unwelcome mind you, but I figured it’d take a while to foster that trust that she seems to be giving me so freely.

I give one firm nod and then tell her, “Thank you for your trust, Beth.  I’ll do my best not to abuse it.”  I mean that 150% too.  I fully intend to earn and keep her trust for the rest of our existences.

She glows at me and then steps the few feet to me before she hugs me.  It’s been just under 53 years since I was so demonstrative with a human, so it takes me a minute to hug her back.  After a couple of moments of hesitation, I bring my arms up and around her and bury my face in her soft and silky hair before we just hold each other for several long seconds that really aren’t long enough. 

Brushing her silken blonde locks with my nose, I breathe in the fragrance lingering there before my tense muscles loosen just a bit.  The essence of wild lavender and freshly ground vanilla are at the forefront.  I’m sure those two smells come from her shampoo and body wash.  Her underlying natural perfume beneath that, although slightly off as if someone altered it somehow, reminds me of the forest I used to play in with my siblings near our home in what was once known as Pictland but is now part of the British Isles. 

The scent conjures a memory that I associate with sunshine filtering through a dense canopy of trees, the leaves, and tiny budding flowers on the forest floor still damp from an afternoon spring rain-shower while childish laughter hung in the air.  It’s an aroma I smelled a lot as a child before my father died and I had to stop being a boy and start providing for my mother and six younger siblings.

Mesmerized by the lingering yet entirely enticing aroma from my childhood I once again thank whoever is responsible for Beth avoiding Mick’s rebellion. 

She pulls away a moment later, and I struggle not to pull her back into my arms.  Goddess, Josef, get a grip.  You went 53 years without a hug, not to mention thousands of years before that one, blissful, year with Sarah, and now suddenly you can’t let go?

She’s wholly unaware of my internal struggle, though, and winks at me before moving to her closet, so after straightening my tie and suit jacket, I ask her, “What are you planning to wear tomorrow night?”

She’s inside her closet, but a few seconds later she comes out and holds up an elegant, floor-length, one-shouldered scarlet dress with a cut to it that dips enough that I hope it will hug her delicious curves and give just enough of a glimpse of her smooth milky cleavage to be distracting.  When she moves a bit, the bottom of the dress glints in the light of the room and highlights the glossy appearance of what is probably satin but looks exceptional enough to be silk. 

It’s breathtaking on the hanger, so I’m confident it will look phenomenal on her.  She has a wonderfully curvy body, and what I really want to do is ask her to try it on for me now.  However, in the long run, I’m sure I can wait until tomorrow to see the vision I’m sure she’ll be in that crimson dress, so I keep the urge under control, but only just.

It looks like a finely made garment that any designer would be proud to lay claim to, so I tilt my head to the right and ask, “Valentino?”

She shakes her head and chuckles before telling me, “I’m afraid civil service doesn’t pay quite enough for designer clothes, Josef, heck not even Buzzwire paid well enough for Valentino.”

I shrug at that and then sit on her bed and bounce up and down on it.  It’s too bouncy for my tastes and my vampiric sense of touch bristles at the scratchiness of the sub-par cotton and polyester blend of her comforter beneath my hand.  I rub my hand on my expertly tailored silk pants leg to try and remove the memory of the scratchiness. 

I glance at her for a second and tell her something that may or may not anger her, “Once you’re my childe, you will be my responsibility until I release you a minimum of three or four centuries from now.  During that time, I will be expected to provide you with everything you might need or want.”

She turns and stares at me with narrowed eyes and pursed lips that are probably as soft as the silk pants I’m still rubbing.  Drawing my hand away from my slacks I hold it up to forestall whatever complaint is about to fall from her full lips and tell her, “Before you go all feminist on me, that would be true even if you were a man.  Because it’s usually a minimum of several centuries before a sire releases their childe, you should prepare to be pampered for the foreseeable future.”

She’s frowning but nods once.  I force myself to tear my gaze from her shiny, bouncing, blonde curls before I meet her eyes and tell her, “Don’t worry.  I will make certain to teach you how to provide for yourself in the manner to which you will become accustomed while under my care.  And by that, I mean I’ll teach you how to invest, and invest well, because you will be eternal and eventually the 9 to 5 job will get old, and you’ll need to be able to provide for yourself without that minuscule income.”

Her frown smooths out, and the edges of her lips tilt up gently, so I add, “Although, the area investigator job pays enough annually that you should be able to buy some designer clothes on your own as well.  As I said earlier, Area Two includes all of L.A. County, and it is the second largest area in the country by the population of both humans, vampires, and supernaturals in general.  Because it’s so big and dense the area has been paying Mick $5 Million annually.  The way I see it, you’ve singlehandedly increased the speed with which he solved his cases and increased his solve rate by more than half.  Therefore, I think I’d be justified in offering you twice what he was making because you have essentially been doing twice the work.”

She gazes at me for an instant and then waves her hand back and forth like she’s swatting the idea away before telling me, “I’m not responsible for Mick having a better track record.”

Arching a brow at that, I tell her, “And yet his speed and solve rate both remained steady for his 47 years as the Area Investigator right up until he started working with you.  Once you began helping him, it took him a week instead of a month to solve his cases, and he was solving twice as many of them.  Please note that the cases he worked on without you continued to take the standard month on average to solve if he managed to solve them at all.  The way I see it, I’ll be getting an investigator who is twice as competent and worth every penny in my book.”

She’s frowning when she asks, “Did his speed of solving them really become a quarter of what it was?”

I grin and tell her, “It really did.  I also wasn’t kidding about Mick’s solve rate doubling.  By my count, you’ve worked 19 cases with him in the five months since you reconnected.  The two of you solved every single one of them, and it took no more than two weeks to resolve any one of them.  Conversely, Mick worked on an additional 27 cases for me as Area Investigator in that time, and he only settled 12 of them, and although I realize he was working on multiple cases at once, it still took him a minimum of a month to solve most of them.”

Her brow is furrowed, and her head is tilted to the left like she’s trying to sort out a puzzle, so I tell her, “You should keep in mind that a vampire usually only requires three hours of sleep a day.  That means he was working those cases for up to 18 to 21 hours a day and it still took him four times longer than it took you to solve your cases and your work day was at least 6 hours shorter.”

She moves and sits beside me with her dress laying in her lap, and while looking at her rug, she asks, “You only sleep three hours a day?”

I clear my throat and tell her, “Mick sleeps three to four depending on how much sun he was exposed to the previous day, and I sleep anywhere from one to two similarly depending on how much sun I am exposed to.  It gets ever so slightly shorter the older we get.  Though, keep in mind that in addition to sunlight exposure, contact with or consumption of silver or severe wounds will lengthen the amount of sleep we need.  Actually, it’s less the sleep and more the sub-zero temperatures.”

Her eyebrows furrow and then release while she gazes at me, so I pat her hand before telling her, “It delays our decay, and if we don’t neglect our freezer time, it will reverse the previous day’s decay provided we lay in sub-zero temperatures on a daily or near-daily basis.”

She angles her head to the left, so I meet her cobalt eyes with my chestnut colored ones and say, “Anyway, your track record far exceeds his.  Yet, he’s far more experienced than you are, so I have high hopes for what your solve rate will be with a few decades under your belt, never mind a couple of centuries.”

She shrugs one shoulder and then ignores what I said about her future mystery solving abilities and says, “It will be nice having a longer day, though, I think I’ll miss the sun.  I like the beach, so I’ll definitely miss that.”

I reach over and grab her hand before rubbing her knuckles gently with my thumb and telling her, “You’ll still be able to go to the beach.  You’ll just have to do it from twilight to crepuscular.”

She turns her face and gazes at me and asks, “Uh, I’m not familiar with that word.  What does crepuscular mean?” 

I chuckle and tell her, “It’s the technical term for the morning twilight.  It can be used to describe both, but it more accurately describes the morning twilight rather than evening twilight.”

She glances at me and titters lightly before she says, “Oh, okay, learn something new every day.”

I bump her shoulder with mine and tell her, “Stick with me kid, and you’ll learn all sorts of new things.”

She winks at me again and says, “I’m counting on it, Josef.”

I just pat her hand and then tell her, “Going back to your buying designer clothes, I think I’ll set up an account for you that will essentially be your fun account.  I’ll donate the first deposit as a welcome to immortality gift and then put your paychecks from the D.A.’s office and perhaps five to ten percent of any money the area ends up paying you into it so that you can have some fun from time to time.  I’ll put another 10% aside in a savings account and $7,500 per week in an account in Venezuela under an assumed name and then invest the remaining amount of your salary and eventually teach you what I’m doing with it and why.”

Beth grins and then stands, and after carefully laying her dress on the bed behind me and smoothing out any wrinkles, she moves into her closet and pulls out a pink and brown plaid suitcase that seems held together in part by many assorted colors and patterns of duct tape.  It’s also got some multi-colored stitching on it that leads me to believe that Beth, or a previous owner, tried to sew some of the tears before resorting to the tape.  If I had to hazard a guess, though, I’d say the bag is older than she is. 

Refraining from commenting on her ancient luggage, I tell her, “Anyway, due to my age, known financial superiority, _and_ my station within the community the other vampires _and_ supernaturals will look down on me if I don’t provide my childe with only the best of everything.  So, don’t even try to argue the point with me.”

She plops the suitcase onto her bed and fights with the zipper before she manages to open it and lift the lid.  Smiling, I glance over my shoulder and tell her, “Now, that dress is lovely, and I’m certain that you will look even more beautiful than usual in it.  Therefore, I won’t offer to buy you a new one, but know that your days of off the rack shopping are effectively over as of tonight.”

She sighs but doesn’t argue, and after striding to her dresser and opening the top drawer she takes out a bright rainbow of silky underthings, strides over to the suitcase with her bounty, and places them inside before she tells me, “I won’t argue, but only because 1.) I already know that you’re just as stubborn as Mick is, if not more so, and 2.) I’ve gone digging through Coraline’s closet and extensive shoe collection, so I know vampires, or at least just over 300-year-old ones, don’t wear shoes from Payless or clothes from Target and the Dress Barn.”

Chuckling, I turn my head in her direction before asking, “There is such a thing as a Dress Barn?  That’s an actual store?”

She giggles and then walking back to the dresser she says over her shoulder, “Yes.  They have clothes that are nice even if you aren’t a stick figure, especially if you aren’t a stick figure, and until I started working at Buzzwire, I shopped there regularly.  Now that I’ve lost the extra 15 pounds I gained in college, I tend to frequent thrift stores, Target, and Walmart when I need new clothes, and Payless Shoe Store is still my go-to shoe source.”

She stops and glances at herself in the mirror on top of her dresser before smirking at herself and then she shakes her head gently and piles more colorful and silky items from her bureau into her arms before she turns and gazes at me saying, “Coraline’s wardrobe was impressive, though.  She had shoes by Prada, Y-3, and Manolo.  And the designers… I’ve never drooled over another woman’s closet before, but Versace, Valentino, Donna Karan, Gucci, and Stella McCartney were just some of the designers I noticed hanging in her closet.  I hate Coraline and everything about her with an unmatched passion, but her closet was enough to inspire the green monster, so I’m kind of looking forward to what my closet will look like in 300 years.  If it’s anything like hers, then I’m going to be an unbelievably happy girl.”

I chuckle at the image that pops into my mind of her drooling over designer duds.  After I manage to calm my chuckles, I ask her a question that not even the slightly hysterical image of her drooling and panting over a pair of shoes like a new puppy can distract me from, “And how exactly did you come to be digging through Coraline’s wardrobe?  She’s not particularly well known for sharing the contents of her closet with, well, anyone.”

She snickers and after dropping a pile of brightly colored and patterned satin and lace bras into her suitcase, she turns and saunters to her closet before beginning to remove clothes from their hangers and put them into the case resting behind me.  After her first trip from the wardrobe to the bed, she tells me, “I may or may not have broken into her apartment and her party house while trying to ascertain if Morgan was really Coraline.”

My jaw drops at that.  She did _what_?  Mick must have forgotten to mention that little detail.  Shaking my head nice and slow, I tell her, “You have a death wish, don’t you?  Only someone who doesn’t mind dying would break into Coraline’s home.  The woman is the epitome of psycho, even by vampire standards, and you of all people should have known that.”

Beth folds a pair of pants before quirking her lips and telling me, “I know.  Mick insisted that Morgan was just as human as I was, and it wasn’t until I had confirmation that she was Coraline that I thought she was a vampire and somehow hiding it.  Anyway, I think the fact that she was human at the time is the only reason that I was so willing to disregard the danger she posed.  I work out regularly, and kick-boxing and Taekwondo are my current sports of choice, so because I’m pretty advanced at both and I knew she’s too lazy to work out, I think I figured I’d be her equal or close to it while we were both human.”

That mollifies me, if only a little, but still, I need to know if my new childe is going to have a casual disregard for her own life and safety.  She seems to sense this, so she stops what she’s doing and meets my narrowed gaze before telling me, “Don’t worry Josef, I stopped and weighed the risks before breaking into her apartment and her party house and decided based on my probably being in better shape than her that it was worth the risk.  Plus, I know that now that she’s a vampire again I stand no chance, and I won’t go looking for trouble.  So long as she steers clear of me, I’ll happily do my best to avoid her.”

Breaking my eyes from her intense stare, I lean back so that I’m resting on my elbows with my legs hanging off the end of the bed and say, “That’s something I suppose.  She shouldn’t become an issue, though.  First, the base of strength, power, and control in a newborn is significantly greater the older their sire is.  Because her maker, who is her father as well, had not been a vampire for even three decades when he turned Coraline in 1721, and I have been a vampire for only 17 years less than 5,400 years you will be stronger and more powerful than her from the get-go, significantly so.”

She snorts and then bursts into giggles before calming enough to say, “And yay again for you being older than dirt!”

I chuckle at that, and then I continue my explanation and tell her, “Once you’re my childe, you’ll be off limits to other vampires even more so than you are now as my human, in part, because childer are sacred and no one can mess with them without suffering dire consequences.  Add in that I’m sheriff and more than 5,400 years old _and_ that most supernaturals are aware of not only the enormous difficulty inherent in killing me but also the fact that I am fully capable of avenging anything that might happen to you, and the overwhelming majority of supes should be smart enough to leave you alone.  Of course, that’s true, if only, because their survival instincts will warn them to stay away from you.”

I shrug one shoulder and then add, “The fact that Jorge is my sire will help, too.  His maker turned him 7,494-years-ago give or take a decade or two, and in those almost 7,500 years he’s earned a reputation among vampires because my sire was one of the leading forces of the Inquisition.  He used it as a cover to remove those who posed a threat to the supernatural community.  The ironic part is that he mostly did it by accusing _them_ of being witches or something similar.  Not even close to a tenth of the ones he was responsible for torturing and/or killing as part of the Inquisition were supernatural in nature.  Anyway, he’s not only an excellent interrogator, but he’s also well known for his torture techniques so that should make people think twice before they go after you.”

Her eyes are round like dinner plates, and she has a slack mouth, so I give her a moment and then tell her, “Going back to Coraline, the vast majority of vampires are under 250 years old.  That means that even though Coraline and her sire are old by modern vampire standards at 313 and 338-years-old respectively, they’re both practically babies.  Coraline seems to completely disregard my advanced age compared to her own, but her maker, François, is fully aware of the fact that he’s barely a toddler by my standards.”

I pause and run my hand through my hair before telling her, “François knows that not only is he an infant, but that Jorge and I are not just older but are, in fact, _significantly_ older than he is.  Although he might not know exactly how much older we are.”

Her head angles to the left in question so I tell her, “The fact that I’ve been a sheriff for about 5,000 years is public knowledge as is the fact that I was the youngest sheriff ever appointed, but not many know exactly how old I truly was when appointed, and even less are aware of Jorge’s exact age.  Anyway, the few times I’ve met François he’s been dutifully respectful and suitably scared, so I don’t foresee him allowing Coraline to be an issue.”

She glances up from folding another blouse, and when her cobalt eyes meet mine, she says, “That’s a relief.”

I tilt my head towards her and then continue, “Of course, it’ll be several centuries before she’s allowed too far from her maker’s feet.  The combination of each of her crimes against you and Mick would have warranted her death, not to mention she has a nasty habit of disobeying direct orders.  The only reason she still exists after committing _all_ the crimes she committed against you both is that her sire stepped in and promised the Authority to suitably rehabilitate her.  They’ve made it clear that if she steps out of line again, they’ll issue death warrants for her _and_ François, both, so she should behave.”

I pause and then laugh while my eyes follow Beth when she returns to her closet before I add, “Well, as much as she knows how anyway.  Regardless, I’m sure François will keep her in Europe for at least a couple of centuries after her punishments are completed.”

Beth turns and peeks out of the closet so that all I see are her eyes, forehead, hair and slender fingers holding the door of the closet.  She stares at me for a second, reaches up with one elegant hand and pushes a lock of her blonde tresses out of her eyes and then asks, “Do you know what her punishments are exactly?”

I shrug both shoulders and then rub my ear before telling her, “Something vampires call ‘Our Most Sacred Rite,’ was performed on her the moment she arrived back in Paris.  The rite unreleased her from her maker’s control, which honestly, she’s far too young to warrant releasing her _now_ never mind over 200 years ago when François originally did it.  The rite, however, is permanent, so if her maker gives her an order in the future, she won’t ever be able to refuse him.  Incidentally, _my_ maker has ordered the rite performed on Mick with my sister as his new sire.  I’m not sure yet whether that will turn out to be a blessing or a curse, though I’m confident Mick already considers it a curse.”

Straightening her stance, Beth moves out from behind the door, and with wide round eyes, the size of dinner plates, she just stands in the middle of her room holding a partially folded shirt. 

I give her a moment to absorb that news, and when her eyes return to their normal size, and she begins moving again, I tell her, “Back to Coraline’s many punishments.  Her sire staked her, and he won’t release her for at least a handful of decades.  After that, her freedom will be non-existent for a minimum of five centuries.  She’s also restricted from initiating contact with Mick _or_ you, and that’s a permanent order that François won’t ever lift.  She’s similarly prohibited from siring anyone new without the prior _written_ approval of François, the Regional Magister, the royal or royals whose territory she and/or the prospective childe are residing in, the local sheriff or sheriffs, _and_ the would-be newborn.  That restriction was presented to her as a Maker’s Command right after the rite was performed and it will last a minimum of a millennium _after_ her five centuries of restricted freedom is finished.”

Beth turns from her suitcase with a cobalt sweater in her hand that matches the color of her eyes.  She looks me up and down for several seconds before asking, “Wow, vampires don’t mess around, do they?”

She doesn’t know the half of it.  Everything I just mentioned is child’s play and mild as far as punishments go in the supernatural world.  François doesn’t have the stomach to torture his childe, mostly because Coraline is also his daughter, but most vampires, myself included, don’t generally have that problem inflicting pain as punishment whenever we deem it necessary. 

The only supernatural I’ve ever not appropriately punished is Mick, and see how great that’s turning out?  Therefore, as much as it will pain _me_ , I will do things the proper way with Beth, which means there will be times when she will hate me because I will cause her pain the likes of which she’s never felt before.  The pain will have a specific purpose, though, which will be to correct undesirable behavior. 

That’s not to say that Beth will misbehave often, but every newborn receives a painful punishment like that at least once.  Hell, even I suffered punishments like that a couple of times before I learned my place.  For most supes once or twice is all it takes to teach them to obey our rules and laws. 

Just like human parents need to punish their children to teach them how to be law-abiding adults, vampires must punish their childer at least a few times to turn them into fine upstanding vampires, and a little pain goes a long way towards not only teaching the lesson but making sure it sticks. 

Beth is much smarter than most, so I’m sure she’ll figure that out for herself in short order once I turn her.  I don’t really want to scare her into resisting her turning, though, because Jorge won’t accept no for an answer, so one way or another Beth will become my childe.  I’d prefer that her turning be a willing event for both of us so instead of explaining how much of an understatement what she just said is, I laugh before telling her, “Not generally, no.”

Beth wrinkles her nose while she places the sweater into her suitcase and then closes the top of it and tries to zip it.  She pulls at the zipper and pushes at the lid several times before she hops up on top of it and sits on it to get it to close enough for her to zip it all the way. 

Laughing again, I run my fingers through my hair and tell her, “I think the first thing I’m going to buy you is a new set of luggage and a new phone if your phone has a habit of not working.  Though, I’m thanking our lucky stars, God, the Goddess, Buddha, and everything in between that your phone wouldn’t show you the texts that Mick sent you tonight.  We got extraordinarily lucky because I have no doubt that he asked you to meet him and planned to run with you.”

She hops off her suitcase and turning to face me says, “I’m grateful that my phone didn’t work too because I don’t even want to think about what would have happened to me if I had been stupid and run with him.”

Still reclining on her bed, I tip my head back, and my eyes gaze heavenward before I exhale a heaving breath and tell her, “We both got exceptionally lucky, Beth, because your life would have been forfeit.  I would have argued on your behalf that as a human you didn’t know any better and that part of Mick’s punishment should remain my turning you because if he ran to prevent it, then it’s obviously the one thing he wants to avoid at all costs, but it might not have worked.  It would have been a 50/50 shot that my sire would have agreed with me.  So, if you believe in God, be sure and thank Him for faulty technology because it likely saved your life tonight.”

She has wide round eyes, but a minute later they narrow before she puts her hands on her hips and then lifts one elegant hand, pointing a slender finger at me while telling me, “As for you buying me things, no going overboard.  I don’t need new everything.”

I chuckle and smirk at her before I say, “I’ll be the judge of what does and does not need replacing, Blondie.  After all, I’ve lived a lot longer than you have, so I know a thing or two about quality and craftsmanship.  The quality of everything I buy you will be top-notch with no room for shoddy workmanship.  It will all be top-of-the-line, including your Louis Vuitton luggage, which I will order for you when we get home.  Your new iPhone I will purchase next week when the new 16 GB version is released.” 

Catching her gaze, I look her in the eye, and after winking, I tell her, “If you behave between now and then I might even let you offer your opinions on which set of luggage to get and the color of your new phone.”

Her hands are on her hips again, and she’s pouting something fierce, but when I merely continue to smirk at her, she quickly shifts her lips into a beaming smile before she says, “Guess I’ll just have to be on my best behavior then.”

Her brow furrows for a second while she pauses then her forehead smooths out and she says, “I have a smaller suitcase that’s much nicer than this one, but it’s too small for a couple of weeks’ worth of clothes.”

A flush creeps across her cheeks a moment later before she ducks her head and tells me, “I also have an iPhone.  About two months before I met Mick, or re-met him, whatever, I left my phone in the pocket of my jeans when I washed them.  Although it’s mostly worked once I dried it out, which took just over a month, I think the heat of the water more than the water itself fried it, so I won’t object to you buying me a new one.  It started acting up right after Christmas, and I joked with…”

She hesitates, and her eyes get glassy with unshed tears.  The briny aroma of salt fills the air a few seconds later when a single tear makes the trek down her cheek.  She wipes at the errant tear, brushing it off her face before she continues her thought, “…Josh that it should have stopped working _before_ Christmas so that Santa could buy me a new one.”

She pauses and seems lost in her memories of her recently deceased boyfriend before she shrugs, and after wiping away another tear, she tells me, “Anyway, I’ll just have to keep it out of the washer from now on.”

I ignore the sad turn her thoughts have taken before standing and asking, “Are you finished packing?”

She stands there for a minute while she nibbles on her bottom lip before she throws up her hands and begins shaking her head and exclaims, “Oh, I forgot my shoes for tomorrow.”

Opening her closet door again she bends over, and I turn my gaze to the side to fully appreciate the exceedingly beautiful view of her nicely round, upturned ass.  Hmm, what I wouldn’t do to become personally acquainted with that plump ass. 

The good news is that makers typically have physical relationships with their childer, so I have high hopes.  Now, that’s not to say that I will force the issue.  I won’t _demand_ that we have a sexual relationship by any means, but if the opportunity presents itself _and_ she’s willing, then I certainly won’t say no.

Standing straight and turning to face me with a shoe in each hand, she smirks when she spots me staring at her and asks, “Enjoying the view again?”

At my age, not much embarrasses me and especially not anything having to do with sex.  Even still, if I were human, the tips of my ears would be turning red like they used to when I was a boy, so I clear my throat and leer at her before saying, “Your ass is deliciously full and round, so yes I was enjoying the view very much.  Of course, it would have been even better if you weren’t wearing clothes, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

She laughs and with a raised eyebrow and one shoe holding hand on her hip she asks, “Josef Kostan, when have you ever begged for anything?”

I saunter towards her, and when I’m standing right in front of her, I tip her chin up and stare into her bright, crystal clear, sky blue eyes and tell her, “I wasn’t always as affluent as I am now, Beth.  Remember that vampires can be centuries if not millennia older than they appear, and most of us weren’t royalty or from the aristocracy when we were human.  There are some who were, François and Coraline, for instance, who are distant relatives of Louis XIV of France, but most weren’t wealthy or of a high station and I’m no exception.”

She just stares into my eyes with a slight frown on her pretty face, so I tell her, “I met Jorge because when I was about 12-years-old I stole some vegetables to feed my family and he was the local Magistrate for the humans.  It was a couple of centuries later that he became a Magister for the Authority which is the Vampire’s internal government body.”

Her brows furrow so I interrupt my story to explain who they are and tell her, “They’re the legislative branch of our government that I mentioned earlier.  Think of them as a mix between Congress and the President, only the members of the Authority aren’t voted into office, and they hold the position until they die their final death.”

Her narrowed eyes widen a fraction, and her brow smooths out just a bit, so I tell her, “Back to my history of begging.  I was born to a pair of peasants on the British Isles, though back then it was known as Pictland.  We didn’t have a lot, but we had enough until my father died when I was ten.  My father immigrated from Akkad before he met my mother and had no family on the island, so as the oldest son, it fell to me to begin providing for my mother and my six younger siblings.  I didn’t have much in the way of skills at that point, so I resorted to stealing to keep food on my family’s table.”

I brush my thumb along the corner of her lips and then tell her, “That worked for about two years before the authorities caught me, and Jorge, as the Magistrate for the humans, tried me.  I received a guilty verdict, and he sentenced me to slavery, which was a mite harsher than usual for a first-time offender.  Normally, there’d be torture, and then they would release me to deal with the injuries I received and their lasting and often debilitating effects.  If they caught me stealing a second time, I would suffer more torture, and _then_ they would sell me into slavery.”

She leans her face into my hand almost imperceptibly, so I brush my thumb along the ridge of her jaw and tell her, “Jorge saw potential in me, though, so he sentenced me to slavery and paid the modern equivalent of about $275,000 for me, which was a hefty price back then.  When I had been his slave for just over 14 years, he felt I was mentally ready and physically old enough at 26 years old, so he turned me, and we’ve been close ever since that night.  Well, my maker felt a mystical pull towards me, so he knew the moment he bought me that he would be turning me when I was old enough, so he fostered a close relationship between us from the start.”

Still stroking her cheek, I explain further, “I was never treated as poorly as other slaves of the time were by their masters.  Jorge taught me how to read and write, and I spent most of my time studying and learning about both the human and the supernatural worlds instead of doing manual labor.  He was more of a father figure than my owner, but technically I was his property.”

Her eyes are round, and she’s barely blinking.  Her mouth is hanging open, so I gently lift her chin and close her mouth before telling her, “I didn’t fight his teachings while I was still human, but then when I first turned, I accidentally killed someone I cared for and then rebelled against my maker.  Honestly, I was more like Mick than I’d care to admit.  Even though I had known about vampires for my entire time as Jorge’s slave, after I experienced the bloodlust for the first time, I thought he had turned me into a monster.  Fortunately for all involved, Jorge and Celeste knew what they were doing, and I think the last time I actively rebelled against them was five or so months after my turning.  By six months old I knew being a vampire truly was what I made of it, and I’d only be a monster if I chose to be one.”

Pausing, I continue to stroke her cheek and then tell her, “I realized that humans did monstrous things just as often as vampires did, maybe even more often in that era.  After that revelation, I became the well-heeled vampire you see now.  But my origins were less refined, significantly so because I was first a peasant for 12 years and then literally a slave for 14 years.”

She frowns and says, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean anyth—”

Placing my finger over her soft lips, I tell her, “Don’t apologize, Beth.  I just want you to realize that your reality is changing and that from this moment forward the life people have now is not necessarily the life they’ve always led.  That’s true in some respects for humans, too, but it’s more pronounced for vampires.”

She gives a crisp nod, and after pushing that errant lock of hair behind her ear again, she says, “Okay.  I’ll try and remember that, but, really, I was just teasing you.”

I grin at that because there are scant few people in this world who would feel comfortable trying to tease me, and the fact that Beth is already one of them bodes well for our future together.  I chuckle lightly and tell her, “I know, and I ruined it by turning it into a teaching moment.”

Her eyes are soft while she gazes at me, and she places her hand over mine on her cheek and says, “It’s alright, I understand that I’m entering a new world and there’s a lot of stuff that you need to teach me.  I’d rather you ruin a good teasing than I end up dead or in trouble with my future grandsire.”

I laugh at that and stroke her soft cheek again before telling her, “That’s incredibly wise of you.  In the future, do anything and everything you can to avoid getting onto Jorge’s bad side because I guarantee that you won’t enjoy him if he’s angry with you.”

Her eyebrows rise and her lips purse, but she jerks her head once in acceptance, so I drop my hand, step back, and then ask her, “Ready to go?”

She doesn’t respond verbally and instead hurries into her bathroom.  She’s in there for several minutes, and I can hear her opening drawers and cabinets before she returns to her bedroom with two small bags with handles and a curling iron.  I grab the bags from her hand, and we move to the bed. 

After she struggles to fit the iron into the side pocket of the suitcase and slides her dress and her shoes into an only slightly less battered and worn garment bag similarly held together by colorful, strategically placed duct tape, I grab her suitcase while she slings the garment bag over her shoulder.

We stroll into the living room where she grabs her computer bag off the island in her kitchen and then marches to the table that works as her makeshift desk in the living room and puts nine hard drives and half a dozen Altoids tins into it. 

She picks up the one USB drive laying on the table and then takes one of the tins out of her bag and opens it revealing that it is full of thumbdrives.  She closes that tin and pulls out another that seems to have room for one more and places the USB drive into the tin and then drops it into the bag.

When she has all the drives on the desk in the bag, she then strides back over to the kitchen island and adds her phone dock and its cord to the bag and then zips the case before she returns to her purse and jacket and grabs them off the kitchen counter.  Then she turns, and after I place my hand on the small of her back, we leave the apartment and stride outside to my limo, which is still waiting for me. 

My were-lynx driver has fallen asleep, so when we reach the vehicle I knock on the window, and once he opens his eyes and sees me standing there with Beth’s luggage in hand, he pops the trunk open and then hops out and grabs her bags. 

While he puts Beth’s things in the trunk, I help her into the car.  Then I slide in after her and sit beside her.  I smile when she grabs my hand and holds on for dear life.  Although she’s known of our existence for a few months, the _next_ couple of months are going to be a bit of a learning curve for her.  As her maker, it will be my responsibility to make sure it doesn’t overwhelm her while making sure that she knows everything that she needs to know not just to survive but to thrive in her new life.

We sit in comfortable silence throughout the ride, and when Beth and I arrive at my home, the driver pulls in through the back entrance that is only a couple hundred feet from the street.  He drives around to the far side of the circular driveway so she can get the full effect the first time she gets a look at the place. 

I help her out of the limo on the driver’s side, so she has an unobstructed view of the fountain.  My Butler almost immediately opens the front door, and after instructing him as to which room will be Beth’s, I watch her while she examines the enormous house before her. 

She stares at the fountain in the middle of the drive for a minute and then swings her eyes to the house itself. 

It’s more impressive in the daylight, but even in the dark, you can see the magnificence of the four-story Châteauesque style mansion.  The only privately-owned house in the United States that is anywhere near as big and impressive as my home is the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, North Carolina. 

Beverly House, as my home is known to the locals, is this coast’s version of an American palace.  The exterior is a muted orange color that I tried valiantly to talk the previous owner out of painting the house.  I failed in that endeavor, and now it’s one of the more widely well-known and distinctive features of my home, so I don’t have the heart to paint over it at this point.

Gazing at Beth’s profile, I tell her, “The home is mostly in the shape of a Serif ‘H’ with two long legs connected by an only slightly more modest leg in the middle.  Both of the longer legs have smaller ‘Serifs’ attached to both ends.  The outer serifs are about half the length of the middle connector, and the inside serifs are about a third of the length of the central leg.”

She doesn’t say anything, but, instead, her eyes slowly travel up and up.  She inspects the side of one of the longer legs of the ‘H’ that surrounds the circular drive and then her eyes go up farther until they reach the bamboo roof. 

I bring my hands behind my back and clasp them before I continue extolling the amenities, “Construction on the house began in 1886, and it was completed in 1892.  The grounds used to cover just over 16,536 acres, but the original owner sold some of it in 1894, so now it’s more like 14,128 acres.  A good chunk of my staff live in homes on the property surrounding this building, and that street we just came in on and a few leading up to it are, in fact, owned by me and not the city, though, the locals have been known to use them as a shortcut and the police patrol them as a courtesy.”

She turns and looks at me with wide eyes and then returns her gaze to the house.  I beam at her and say, “At the time of its completion, the house was the largest privately-owned home in the United States.  It still is despite the Biltmore Estate, which is the second largest privately-owned home in the country, being completed three years later in North Carolina.”

Her eyes glance over at me, and then they return to inspecting the exterior of my home, so I tell her, “The house sits atop a hill with a spectacular view of the city below from just about every room in the house.  There is a total of 499,905 square feet of floor space, though, the actual living space is only about 473,202 square feet.  Every single last square foot is full of unadulterated opulence.  There are 496 rooms in the main house, 68 of which are bedrooms.  Every bedroom is part of a suite that has the bedroom, a walk-in closet, a sitting room, a study, a fireplace in each of the three rooms in the suite, and a full bathroom.  There are 184 additional fireplaces and 20 additional bathrooms scattered throughout the house.”

She turns to stare at me again, and I almost laugh at the size of her eyes and the fact that her mouth is loosely hanging open.

Instead of laughing, I tell her, “Despite being a vampire who hasn’t eaten human food in 5,383 years, the house has three full professional kitchens that I mostly use to feed the live-in freshies.  There are many pools on the property spread out between the homes my staff live in.  This house, though, has three outdoor pools and one indoor pool as well as a handful of saunas and hot tubs, stables, tennis courts, two home gyms, two theaters, a bowling alley, several billiards rooms, a four-story library, and a disco that is by the pools.  I usually use the disco as part of pool parties I host on occasion.”

She glances back at the house, gives one sharp nod and then grabs my hand before practically dragging me to the front door that my butler left open when he brought her things to her room.  I’m not even sure she noticed him or the driver carrying her belongings inside or me telling him which set of rooms I want her living in. 

I’m putting her on the opposite side of the house from my suite of rooms to give her a sense of privacy and space that she may very well need from time to time while she acclimates to life as a vampire.

When we enter the front hall, her head acts like it’s on a swivel stick going from one side of the room to the other and back again while she tries to take everything in.

The whole house is full of artwork that I’ve collected over the course of my long life.  In the foyer alone, there are paintings and sculptures worth tens of millions.

About 60 seconds into her exploration her eyes land on one of my more famous pieces hanging on the wall and she rushes over to it and immediately begins gushing, “Oh Josef, I love this painting.  Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe has been my favorite piece of art ever since I studied Manet in a college art history course.” 

She pronounces the name correctly, and my estimation of her that was already sky high gets that much higher.

She briefly glances away from the painting in question and tells me, “My mom saved her money during my high school and college years, so she could pay for me to go on a trip to Europe when I graduated with my bachelor’s degree.”

She glances back at the painting by my old friend, Édouard, and continues her story, “I made sure to go to the Musée d'Orsay, mostly because I wanted to see this up close and personal.  Unfortunately, when I got there, they informed me that the private owner who had been loaning it to them had requested it back.  It figures that you’d be that private collector.”

I smirk and tell her, “I’m terribly sorry for having made you wait to see it.” 

She leans in closer to it and then says, “Oh don’t worry Josef, it was totally worth the wait.  It’s even more amazing when you can see the actual brush strokes.  To think, Manet spent two years of his life creating this masterpiece, and when he tried to show it, the Salon Jury rejected it.  Then once he managed to exhibit it in the Salon des Refusés everyone laughed at it.”

My mouth is hanging open a bit at her extensive knowledge of the piece, and I just blink at her without making a comment.

She steps away from the painting after a moment and strides to the other side of the entry room to inspect a lesser-known piece by David, and then she proceeds to drag me around the ground floor of my own house for just over an hour, so she can see all the art I have on display. 

We only manage to look through a handful of rooms on the first floor before she yawns for the third time in as many minutes, so I tell her, “Okay, you, I promise to finish giving you the grand tour when you’re not practically falling asleep on your feet.”

Her eyes droop, and she yawns again before slowly and haltingly telling me, “I’m going… to hold… you… to that… Josef.”  Then mostly to herself, she whispers, “I can’t… believe… this is… where… I’m going… to be… living… for the… foreseeable… future.”

I reach out and squeeze her shoulder before telling her, “Good, I hope you do.  It’s been a long time since anyone who appreciates art as much as I do has been here to enjoy my vast collection.”

She frowns and says, “That’s… a shame.”

I incline my head towards her before putting my hand on the small of her back and leading her down the hall to the nearest elevator.  While we walk I tell her, “My home is now your home, too, so feel free to make yourself at home and explore freely.  Any room that isn’t locked, which I don’t recall any other than the freezer rooms being locked, is open for your discovery.”

She smiles a lazy grin at that news but says nothing in response.  I beam at her and then take her to the third floor in one of the many elevators scattered throughout the house because I’m not sure she would manage to safely make it up two flights of stairs to the third floor. 

When we reach her room, I glance into her walk-in closet that’s frankly bigger than her bedroom in her apartment and see that my butler already placed her suitcase on the luggage stand and her garment bag is hanging from one of the poles in the closet that is full of built-ins. 

She glances around the room with heavy-lidded eyes for a minute.  Her eyes stop briefly on her computer bag, which is sitting on top of an antique bureau, but then her eyes swing towards the rest of the room. 

What does she think of the California king bed or the shades of aqua, ochre, and brown that make up the decorations and accents throughout the room?  Does she like the white comforter with black, grey, and aqua diamonds scattered about it?  Is she even registering that the space is twice the size of her entire apartment and does she realize that the furnishings and artwork are worth more than her little silver car cost her? 

Marcel Duchamp's Nude Descending a Staircase (No. 2) that is hanging above her bed in all its ochre and brown colored glory is easily worth more than she makes in a year.  Yet even though I’m sure she recognizes the painting, she says nothing of the fact that she’s about to sleep in the same room as a famous modernist piece of art.  She just sort of looks around in a casual manner and then without commenting on her new room she goes into the closet before returning an instant later with her pajamas in her hand. 

She glows, and with lightly stilted speech that indicates just how tired she is, she tells me, “Okay… I’ll inspect my room… later… and tomorrow I’ll… gush over the fact… that the Duchamp… that happens to be… a personal favorite… of mine… is hanging over… my new bed.  For now… you need… to go do… whatever vampires do… in the middle of the night… because your human… needs to go… to sleep… so she… won’t… be a zombie… at work… tomorrow.”

I laugh at that and ignoring the thrill that shot through me when she called herself _‘my human,’_ I tell her, “If you insist.”

She giggles and says, “I… do.”

I lean in and brush her soft cheek with my lips before telling her, “Sweet dreams, Beth.”

Her grin is a bit on the silly side like someone about to fall asleep standing up, so I make a quick exit and go to my bedroom suite and change out of my business suit into my own pajamas of black silk sleep pants and a grey, 100% cotton t-shirt.  Then I go to my office that’s connected to my suite of rooms. 

After I sit down, I remove my laptop from the desk drawer and turn it on before I go over everything I have on Mick and all his assets.  I spend a good chunk of time writing up a list of all his contacts that I’m aware of so that Jorge and his people can question them all.  The fact of the matter is, most of them won’t be pleased with Mick for causing the Magister to interview them, which should work in our favor. 

I work for an hour before a freshie comes in to check on me and give me a bite to eat.  I make quick work of drinking her blood, and due to time constraints, I don’t bother savoring my meal.  I also don’t bother with the sex that I usually partake of this late at night.  Honestly, I have far too many other things I need to be doing to be entertaining a freshie in my bed right now.

When I finish eating, I lick the wound clean, and when it begins to clot, I tell her, “That will be all for tonight.”

She pouts and runs her finger along her collarbone before asking in a simpering tone, “Are you sure there’s nothing else you’d like before I go?”

Ordinarily, I’d take her up on her not so subtle offer but not tonight.  No, tonight I need to find my best friend before he gets himself killed.

I wave her away, which causes her to huff before she practically stomps her way out of my office.

I forget about her the minute she leaves the room, and I return to reviewing everything I have on paper about Mick.

Another hour later, I stop when my maker calls me to discuss everything that has happened in the last 24 hours. 

After he greets me, Jorge asks, “Where do you think St. John would go to hide, Childe?”

I inhale a deep breath, and then after releasing it, I tell him, “Honestly, Sire, I don’t have a clue where he would go.  Any of the safe houses that I helped him set up will be the last places he goes to because he knows I will obey you and tell you everything I know.”

My computer bings at me, so I lean forward in my seat and glance at the screen, and after clicking on the new email that just arrived, I tell him, “Rider just sent me all the information he has on Mick’s accounts beyond what I already knew.  When we hang up, I’ll send it to Celeste so that she can see if she can find any hidden purchases of property or the like that might be a safe house.  I’ll also send her all of the information Rider gets off Logan’s computers as soon as he finds anything.”

I can hear the frown in my maker’s voice when he says, “Good, as for the computers, my people just finished confiscating all of it, much to Mr. Griffen’s consternation.  It should be arriving at your home within the half hour.”

I sag back in my chair and turn it, so I can look out the floor-to-ceiling windows and stare at the twinkling lights of Los Angeles before I tell him, “I’ll make sure it’s safe until Rider can get a look at it.”

I can hear the smile in Jorge’s voice when he says, “Excellent, now for a happier subject, you were correct that Ms. Turner is an exceptional human.  We are fortunate that she’ll be of our line.”

I release a calming breath at that, but then he says, “I only wish you had taken her for your own without my ordering you to do so.  She deserves that honor.”

I heave a hefty sigh and frown before telling him, “I know she does and I, too, wish I could have given her that honor, but I was working on a solution that wouldn’t get Mick killed.  I was hoping we’d all get lucky, and he’d agree to turn her himself or give her to me without a fight.”

I can picture Jorge shaking his head when he says, “Childe, you had to realize that St. John would never agree to turn her or give her to you free and clear.  I dare say, you understand him better than anyone else, even me, and even I know he would never give her to you, especially if he knew that you wanted to turn her.”

I’m frowning when I tell him, “I get that.  The compulsion to turn her is getting stronger by the day, so I think I was just trying to enjoy as much of my friendship with Mick as I could before the compulsion became unbearable.  I would have waited as long as possible to give her and me as many happy memories with Mick as possible and then in a year or two, I would have made my move if Mick hadn’t already.”

I imagine my maker is curling his lip and leaning back in his chair before he asks, “Why are you so attached to that insufferable vampire?  I’ve never understood why you like him so much or why you repeatedly overlook his bad behavior.  If he was anyone else, I am certain he would aggravate you as much as he annoys me, and your attachment to him is so out of character it baffles me more often than not.”

Despite the subject matter I laugh and tell him, “I honestly can’t explain it.  I just felt a connection to him the moment I saw him for the first time when he was still human.  I ignored it then and left for New York soon after, but when I returned to L.A. and re-met him, I felt the connection again.  The connection felt like the one I felt with most of my previous childer, so I’d say he should have been my childe all along and that Coraline never should have turned him.  He should have been mine from the start, but I was distracted, so I didn’t pursue the feeling and unwittingly gave Coraline the opening she needed to ruin everything.”

Jorge releases an audible breath and says, “ _That_ explains so much.  He was your intended childe just like Ms. Turner is and circumstances prevented you from turning him, but because he still exists you nevertheless have an undeniable connection.  I understand now, and I won’t give you any more flack for your attachment to him, though, don’t misunderstand me, I still think as he currently is, he’s wholly undeserving of your esteem.  Perhaps that’s because Coraline DuVall ruined him for everyone else, but he doesn’t deserve you currently.  However, I won’t force you to suffer the loss of him if I can prevent it, so once I catch him, I will exile him for a millennium and have Celeste work her magic on him.  Make no mistake, Childe, if he continues to cause trouble and disobey direct orders, I will have no choice but to save face and end him.”

I let out a deep sigh because it’s entirely possible that that will become necessary, but I tell him, “I understand, Sire, and I appreciate your willingness to give him so many chances all for my benefit.  I hadn’t noticed the true scope of his pattern of bad behavior before he killed Anders, but I can see it now in hindsight clear as day.  I think I was too close to him and the situation to be able to properly see what was happening.  Anyway, I can now see that he’s prone to completely disregarding orders and stubborn enough to fight tooth and nail not to have his habits changed, even if it would save him, and all of us, a lot of trouble and unnecessary pain.  I’m preparing myself, though, because it will take a miracle or an act of the Goddess for Celeste to get through his thick skull and rehabilitate him properly.  I also need to figure out how to prepare Beth for the worst without making her think I’ve completely given up on him.”

I imagine my sire’s eyes widening and him rubbing his index finger along the side of his brow before he asks, “You doubt your sister’s abilities?”

I squint my eyes and suck in my cheeks before I tell him, “Not at all, in fact, if anyone has a chance at fixing him, it’s Celeste, but she’s going to have her work cut out for her.  Despite his being a fraction of our ages, he’s even more stubborn and set in his ways than you or I are, so it will require quite the effort to change how he thinks and acts.”

He exhales a heavy sigh the same time I do and says, “I will pray that this situation has an ending that will please you and my future grandchilde when it’s all said and done.”

I smile almost imperceptibly and say, “Thank you, Master.”

I can hear his grin when he says, “You are quite welcome, now I will let you return to compiling everything you know about St. John.”

I exhale a soft breath and tell him, “I’ll send it your way in a few minutes.”

He says, “Perfect, don’t wait too long after sunrise to go to rest.  You’ve been under a bit of stress this past week, so I think you need the cold more than usual, Childe.”

I rub the back of my neck and tell him, “Thank you, Sire.  I can feel the strain, so I won’t put it off longer than necessary.  I hope you have an excellent rest of your evening.”

His smile is apparent when he says, “And you as well.”

We disconnect a second later.

Half an hour later, all of Logan’s computer equipment arrives.  I have it placed in the study attached to the bedroom next to mine for safe keeping until Rider shows up tomorrow to look it all over, and then I return to my work. 

About 15 minutes later, I send Celeste and my maker everything Rider has sent me, and then I call Vincent, as promised, and explain everything that’s happened. 

When I finish telling him tonight's events after we parted ways, he says, “I’ll make a list of everyone that I know has had contact with Mick, too, so that we can compare our two lists.”

I inhale and then exhale a shaky breath before saying, “Good.  I look forward to seeing if I’ve missed anyone.  I’ll be working from my home for the rest of the week, so I’ll expect you to deliver anything that needs my immediate attention here instead of the office.”

The grin in his voice is obvious when he says, “Of course, Master.  I know you have the dedication tomorrow night, so I’ll do my best not to bother you until Friday unless absolutely necessary.”

After leaning back in my seat, I tell him, “Thank you, Vincent.  I still say you’re a lifesaver.”

He laughs and says, “And I still want to be an orange one.”

With a chuckle back, I tell him, “Call me if anything pressing comes up, even tomorrow night, especially if you get a lead on Mick.”

His tone is grim when he says, “Don’t worry, Sire, I’ll call you if the situation warrants it.”

In all the years we’ve been together, he’s never let me down, so I’m confident that he’ll do exactly what’s needed in any given situation. 

I give a sharp nod before I tell him, “Excellent, now I’ll let you go make your list.”

He says, “Thank you.  Have a good night, Sire.”

A soft smile grows on my face before I say, “And you as well, Childe,” and then I hang up.

I return to making my list and checking it twice and don’t stop until I feel the sun break the horizon when a new day dawns.  It’s time for all good, little vampires to climb into their freezers for some sub-zero temperatures, so I forward my list to my maker, Celeste, and Vincent, and then I go to my freezer room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note:  Two of the ideas I used in this chapter are not entirely mine.
> 
> First, Robin M. and I thought up the bits about supreme supernatural shifters while we were working on another project together.  The initial idea of shifters who can shift into any creature including humans and supernaturals was Robin’s, and we fleshed out the details together.  I believe the name was her creation, too.  I’ve used the idea here with her permission.  Thank you, Robin, not just for letting me use this idea but for all the help you’ve given me on various stories I’ve worked on through the years (and for putting up with 20,000-word chapters…lol!)
> 
> Second, a Buffy: The Vampire Slayer, Willow Rosenberg/Spike fanfiction called ‘The Charms of Dancing’ by Anastasia was the inspiration for the bit about Josef and Beth’s blood calling to each other after she turns.  Unfortunately, I don’t think she ever finished it, but it was a remarkable story.  I’ve put my own spin on the theory, but I got the spark for the idea from that story. 
> 
> I’ve searched for Anastasia, but I have been unable to find her, so if anyone knows how to get in touch with her so I can make sure she doesn’t mind me using her idea as the basis for my own idea, I would much appreciate any help I can get.  Either way, I thank her for writing such a phenomenal story and inspiring me to write my own tales.
> 
> Now, for the art and architecture in the story.  I fudged the details of Josef’s art collection.  Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe (1862-1863) by Édouard Manet is a real painting that’s hanging in the Musée d'Orsay in France.  I have no idea who owns it (probably the museum) but for the purposes of this story Josef owns it and was merely loaning it to the museum. 
> 
> Additionally, although I know that Marcel Duchamp's Nude Descending a Staircase (No. 2) (1912) is hanging in the Philadelphia Museum of Art, I don’t know who it officially belongs to, but in this story, Josef owns it and has it hanging in his home.
> 
> Furthermore, I fudged the details of Josef’s house.  Josef’s home is based on a real home in Beverly Hills called Beverly House.  In real life, Hollywood often uses Beverly House for exterior shots in their films, including but not limited to The Godfather (it’s the house Jack Woltz lived in when he found his horse’s head in his bed,) and the Bodyguard. 
> 
> I’ve changed the acreage, square footage, and the numbers of rooms and floors to be larger than the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, North Carolina.  In real life, the Biltmore is the largest privately-owned house in the United States.  However, in my story, I’m making Josef’s home the largest by more than double the square feet.


	5. Wonderful Tonight

 

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Chapter 005**

**Wonderful Tonight**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Thursday, January 31, 2008; 5:58 p.m. PST**

**Beverly House, Josef’s Home, in Beverly Hills, California**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

I slide my pocket watch out of the inside pocket of my tuxedo jacket and then glimpse at it: 5:58 p.m.  There are two minutes before Beth and I need to leave for the dedication of The Sarah Whitley Memorial Sports Arena at Hearst College, which a hefty donation allowed me to name after my beloved Sarah.

Glancing at my pocket watch again, there is one minute until Beth is late.  Should I call her?  Go to her room?  Or just wait? 

Fate makes my choice for me 10 or so seconds later when my phone rings, so I put my watch back and take my phone out of my pocket and stare at the screen. 

It’s Beth, so beaming, I press send, and after bringing the phone to my ear, I ask, “Lost again?”

_She’s_ definitely not smiling when she says, “YES!  You live alone Josef!  Why on earth do you need more than 473,200 square feet of palace?”

I chuckle and ignore the fact that many of my staff, including 10 freshies, live on the property.  I understand her point, though, so I tell her, “I bought it from the estate of an old friend to help his children pay off his debts after he died, and I’m rather fond of it because I was here when William Randolph bought it in 1947.  I even helped design some of the remodels while he owned it.”

She’s silent for a solid minute before she asks, “You were ‘good friends’ with William Randolph Hearst?  Not only do you own and live in the house where Jack Woltz woke to a bloody horse head in his bed, but you actually knew the incredibly famous previous owner well enough to call him your ‘good friend’?”

The fresh young face of my old friend the night I met him at Harvard swims in my mind’s eye.  I smirk and tell her, “The first time I met William Randolph, he was hosting a raucous beer party in Harvard Square.  The year was 1883, and everyone knew that the police would show up, just as they had for the dozens of previous parties he held, but they were still incredibly popular with the masses.  I thought that the free-flowing booze would give me ample opportunity to discreetly find my dinner.  As expected, I got my easy meal and wound up becoming friends with William Randolph after I helped him break up a fight between two revelers.” 

I chuckle and then add, “So, to answer your question, yes.  In fact, William Randolph was one of the 60 or so humans that I offered immortality to, but, unfortunately for me, he had no interest in living forever.”

She exhales a soft breath into the phone, and I can picture her dreamy face at the prospect of learning new things clear as day when she says, “One of these days I’m going to sit you down and write your memoirs for you.”

With a beaming smile, I tell her, “Well, maybe I’ll allow you to do that after vampires reveal themselves to humans this summer.”

It’s an excellent plan and might help glamorize us enough to win the humans over, or most of them anyway, so I file the idea away to discuss with my maker and then my king if Jorge thinks it’s a sound concept.  If Jorge does end up liking the idea, I might even suggest that a few other select vampires also write their memoirs.  I can think of a couple off hand, such as my blood-cousin, Eric, and his maker, Godric, that would perfectly serve our need to glamorize us and make us more appealing to the human masses.

Beth and I are officially running late, though, so I shake my head to clear it of the list forming in my mind and instead ask her, “Are you coming, Beth?”

She huffs into the phone and asks, “Josef, are you so old that your memory is going, and you’ve forgotten the definition of the word lost?  In case you _have_ forgotten it, Merriam-Webster defines lost as ‘Unable to find the way.’ Sooo, if I could find my way to reach you or even figure out where the heck I am in your enormous palatial house with freaking 68 bedroom-suites, 20 bathrooms _not including_ the 68 attached to the bedrooms, and 204 other rooms that don’t include the studies and sitting rooms that are also connected to each bedroom, then I wouldn’t be lost.”

In the last 18 hours, I’ve laughed far more than I have in most of my long existence combined, and I’m still laughing while Beth whines at me.  She huffs again at my laughter, and the pout I’m sure is on her face is evident in her voice when she says, “It’s not funny, Josef.  I need GPS just to find my bathroom, and _that’s_ attached to my bedroom.”

I continue to chuckle while I tell her, “Stand still, and I’ll use my senses to find you.”

She exhales a soft breath and says, “Thank you.  I’m sorry I’m making us late.”

I frown slightly and tell her, “There’s no need to apologize, Beth.  I should have come to your bedroom door instead of expecting you to find your way after only an hour or so of exploring this morning before you went to bed.”

While I follow the sounds of her heartbeat and breathing, she chuckles and tells me, “I forgive you, but don’t let it happen again, Mister.”

I laugh once again, but a moment later I stop laughing out loud so that I can sneak up on her.  Making no sound whatsoever, I stalk her, and when I reach her, I lean in behind her and whisper in her ear, “Yes, Ma’am.”

She jumps about a foot in the air and spins to face me before smacking me across the chest and saying, “Don’t do that!  I’m not a vampire yet, so I can still be scared to death.”

Smiling, I grab her hand and hold it over my heart before telling her, “I can hear your heart beating strong and steady, and I assure you that your ticker is perfectly healthy, and a small scare won’t hurt you before I turn you this weekend.”

She’s grinning even while she snorts and asks, “Maybe so, but why would you want to risk it?  Better to err on the side of caution, no?”

I snicker before then telling her, “I’ll try and control my urges to sneak up on you until after I turn you, but, fair warning, I’m going to do it even more frequently after you transition to train you to pay attention to your surroundings at all times.  I’ll think of some sort of reward system to make it worth your while.  Perhaps every time you manage to catch me before I sneak up on you, I’ll answer one solicited personal history question.”

Beth bounces a little and smirks before she says, “Five questions to cover follow-up questions so I can clarify what you’ve told me.”

I roll my eyes and smirk at her before saying, “You’re smart, Beth, so you won’t need four follow-ups so how about two questions.”

She pouts and says, “Four.”

I chuckle again and raise my eyebrows before I tell her, “You can ask me a total of three questions, which you can split up and bank, saving the remaining questions for follow-ups on another day.  Final offer.”

She beams at me and bounces on the balls of her feet before telling me, “Deal.”

I chuckle and then release her hand from its place against my chest and hold out mine before we shake on it.  When we stop shaking, I let go of her right hand and take hold of her left before stepping back and holding her exceptionally soft hand in mine, I raise it up in the air, and look her up and down before I grin and ask, “Twirl for me?”

She beams, and while she continues to hold my hand above her head, she slowly spins in place.  I was correct, the v-cut of her neckline shows just enough smooth milky cleavage to be distracting.  The scarlet color of the gown makes her almost but not quite pale complexion glow in good health, and the satiny fabric of the crimson dress clings to her curvy body perfectly allowing me to enjoy the clean lines of her hourglass figure.

When she’s facing me again, she holds out her free hand to her side and asks, “Not too shabby for off the rack, huh?”

I ogle her a little and then tell her, “Not too shabby at all.  You are radiant, Beth, simply stunning.”

Lowering our still joined hands, I continue the thought, “I’m going to be the envy of every man in attendance, and I should probably go find a big stick to take with me, so I can beat back all of your admirers.”

She giggles and says, “Uh huh.”

I let go of her hand and hold out my elbow before she wraps her fingers around it and allows me to lead her down the hallway towards the front of the house while I tell her, “Seriously Beth.  You look amazing tonight.”

She runs her eyes over me from head to feet and then smirks and says, “You’re handsome in your tux, too, Josef.  I like the red cummerbund and bow tie.  I didn’t plan it, but we match.”

I chuckle and tell her, “Hearst’s colors are crimson and silver, so those of us involved in the ceremony will likely all being wearing scarlet accents.”

She inclines her head and then uses her free hand to lift the hem of her dress, so she won’t trip while we walk down the two flights of stairs and then out to the driveway. 

Alejandro, the vampire I’ve had guarding Beth all day, is waiting for us at the car.  He, too, is wearing a standard tux, though, his has a black bow tie and a black and navy blue vest under his jacket.

He’s tied back his shoulder-length brunette hair that has auburn highlights with a leather cord.  He usually wears his hair loose so even though it’s tied back tonight, he still brushes the ghost of a lock of hair behind his ear before opening the car door for Beth and me.

His eyes that are the same shade as weak tea are continually scanning the area for threats, but when Beth grins at him, he smiles back showing off his teeth that are far whiter than the teeth of most vampires born at the turn of the 16th century. 

Beth pats his hand that’s gripping the top of the door and says, “Looking sharp, Alejandro.  I like the blue almost as much as I like the red that Josef is wearing, but between you and me I think I’m partial to the red only because it matches my dress.”

He chuckles so she snickers at him and then she slides into the car.  I tip my head at him before unbuttoning my tuxedo jacket and then following her into the car.  Alejandro closes the door behind me and then gets into the front passenger seat to give us privacy. 

I’ve soundproofed all my vehicles, both the human way and the supernatural way, so no one will be able to hear what Beth and I talk about while we travel, not even Alejandro or Maksim, the were-lynx driver, provided I keep the screen between us raised.

A minute later the limo starts and then we’re on our way to Hearst College.

Beth and I are sitting beside each other on the leather seats, and she’s holding my hand again.  She stares out the window watching the scenery fly by before she asks, “So, what’s your connection to Hearst College?  Did you attend?” She turns and gazes at me before finishing her question, “I mean, you said you were good friends with William Randolph.  However, you conveniently left out any details about why you would personally donate $50 million _and_ talk 10 or 12 of your wealthy friends into donating an additional $70 million all to help build a new sports arena at the school that bears _his_ name.”

I raise my eyebrow and then sit back and still holding her hand I rub my thumb along her knuckles and tell her, “You mean other than the enormous tax write-off?”

She raises an eyebrow at me and cants her head to the left but says with a pout firmly on her face, “Yes, other than that.  I’ve learned quickly that you always have a reason for everything you do.  So far, all your reasons for everything have been good ones, but I sense a good story so spill.”

I chuckle yet again before I tell her, “Your desire to know as much as possible is refreshing, though, I’m sure it will occasionally be inconvenient, too.”

She giggles but waves her hand in a get on with it motion, so I snicker and tell her, “Okay, jeez, the answer to your question is that I didn’t attend.”

I pause, and she narrows her eyes at me, so I bump her shoulder with mine and then tell her, “I founded the school in 1925.  Actually, Thomas Fitzgerald, Charles Fitzgerald’s father on paper, founded it shortly after he bought the land and broke ground, but classes didn’t start until the spring semester of 1927.”

Beth’s eyes are round as Frisbees, and her mouth opens and closes a couple of times before she asks, “You founded it?”

I incline my head towards her in silent answer, so she narrows her eyes again and asks, “If _you_ founded it, why is it _Hearst_ College instead of _Fitzgerald_ College?  What’s the full story, because I doubt that’s it?”

After chuckling for a moment, I tell her, “Your aptitude for sensing when you don’t have the whole story is remarkable, but, no, that’s not the full story.”

Pausing again just to fluster her, when she huffs at me, I chuckle once more and tell her, “It’s not named after me because I made a bet with William Randolph, and the loser had to found a college and name it after the winner.  Fortunately for the country, but unfortunately for me and my eternal bank account, Calvin Coolidge won the presidency in 1924 despite a split in the Republican Party that I was certain would cost him the election.  I lost the bet and Hearst College was born.  All in all that lost bet has cost me about $2.3 Billion in the last 83 years, but when I do something, I do it right, so I had to make sure it’s the best school possible.”

She smiles and squeezes my hand that’s still holding hers before saying, “The fact that you won and not him was probably best for all those students, too.  History showed that William Randolph was a horrible businessman and couldn’t manage his finances very well.”

I tip my face towards her and say, “His problem wasn’t that he couldn’t make money.  For the record, he made _a lot_ of money.  At the time of his death, his estate was worth the modern equivalent of tens of billions.  He probably made two or three times that over the course of his entire life.  However, he had a nasty habit of spending far more than he made.”

She frowns and asks, “He made tens of billions, but he spent even more than that?  Wow.”

My lips press together, and I wrinkle my nose and tell her, “If you think I live extravagantly, well, it’s nothing compared to how he lived.  I mean look at my house, _he_ bought that enormous palace of his own free will, and even though he got it for a steal, all things considered, due to it having been in severe disrepair, he still paid just under 2.4 million for it, which was a lot of money back then.”

I shrug and tell her, “Not including the furnishings or art and decorations, Beverly House, as it is now with all the land and outbuildings, is easily worth at least two billion, maybe even more.  However, when I bought it, the whole property was still in need of major repairs so the going rate was four million and I wound up paying his estate 10 million for it as a favor to his mistress.”

Her eyes are wide, and she’s not really blinking, so I clear my throat and then tell her, “Fact of the matter was, I only bought it to help Marion and his children pay off his substantial outstanding debts and for sentimental reasons, but _he_ just wanted a palace.  Which for the record he owned an actual castle in Wales and had another home built that is currently _called_ Hearst Castle.”

I pause and gently swing my head back and forth before telling her, “He spent the modern equivalent of more than a billion dollars renovating that castle in Wales.  He had entire rooms, and whole buildings in some cases, of historical landmarks, broken down and then shipped to Wales and rebuilt brick by brick.  I spend quite a lot, and I indulge my fancies whenever it suits me, but I have _never_ had historical buildings broken down and then shipped hundreds or thousands of miles before then having the structures rebuilt in the new location.”

With her head angled to the left just a bit, she’s frowning while she stares at me with wide round eyes, so I tell her, “Anyway, I tried on several occasions to get him to let me manage his accounts.  He was set in his ways, though, and he knew I’d drastically cut back on his spending, so he refused.  A couple of years later he was forced to sell many of his properties and all his exotic animals, and he had to hand over control of his estate to someone who was even stricter than I would have been when I originally made the offer.”

I’m still holding her hand and rubbing her knuckles with my thumb when I say, “As it stands, I bought all his collections and most of his estate from the auctions and private sales his estate’s trustee held in 1938 and 1939.  Then when he died in 1951, I bought the rest of his holdings, including all his homes and companies, to help his children and his longtime mistress, Marion Davies, finish paying off his outstanding debts.”

I exhale a deep breath and tell Beth, “He had given Marion quite a bit of real estate and art and such, not to mention shares in his companies, and she was just as prone to overspending as he was.  So, I also bought just about all of her holdings after she died a decade later to help her estate finish paying off both of their debts.”

After heaving a heavy sigh, I then say, “I gave William Randolph quite a lot of startup money for several of his endeavors so by the time he died I owned 51% of the Hearst Corporation, and I have acquired 95% of the company since Marion’s death in 1961.  At this point, William Randolph’s descendants own no more than a combined total of 5% of the company.  The rest of it is mine.  Though I say I own 95%, in reality, I share my wealth with those of my line, so each of my childer has stakes in most of my holdings including the Hearst Corporation.  In the coming months, I’ll arrange for you to acquire a small percentage of all my holdings just as I have with all my other childer.  Well, Mick doesn’t share a stake in most of my holdings.  He didn’t want my charity before he became my childe and after I re-turned him, I never got around to broaching the subject.  He’s more stubborn than I am most of the time, so he probably would have refused anyway.”

With narrowed eyes, I glare at her playfully and ask, “I’m not going to have to work at convincing you to let me take care of you, am I?”

She giggles, and her eyes brighten while she leans towards me before saying, “No, while I don’t want charity either, you’re basically becoming the patriarch of my family, and because you’re older and more experienced, it’s not entirely inappropriate for you to provide for me for a time.  Kind of like wealthy parents, I suppose.  Anyway, I don’t want more than you have given to any of my blood-siblings-to-be, but I won’t argue if you try to give me the equivalent of what you’ve given to them in the past.”

I pat her hand and tell her, “Thank you, Childe.  I’ll begin working on doing that next week.”

She grins at me, so I laugh lightly and tell Beth, “Going back to Beverly House.  Marion lived in my current home with William Randolph, and after he died, I bought the house and then allowed her to remain, rent-free, until her own passing in 1961.  Once I returned from New York in 1955, we lived together.”

When I let out a chuckle, she arches an eyebrow so I tell her, “Of course, I’m terribly picky about who I reveal my secret to, but although it’s rare, I have been known to tell humans I have no intention of turning or even offering to turn.  Marion, however, wasn’t one of my chosen few who was in on my secret, so she had no idea what I am.  She thought I was the nearly identical son of her lover’s friend.”

I cock my head to the right and then say, “Anyway, I still own almost everything the two of them had, though, St. Donat’s Castle that I mentioned earlier houses a school that I rent the space to nowadays, and it’s also often used as a wedding destination during the warmer months when school isn’t in session.  I figured there wouldn’t be many other uses for such a piece of property.  I have a wing of the castle that is reserved for me and any guests I might bring there, but the rest of it houses the Atlantic College.”

After rubbing the back of my neck for a second, I tell her, “I also own Hearst Castle in San Simeon and all the other properties William Randolph and Marion had.  In the end, the only things I didn’t buy from them and their two estates before and after their deaths were his exotic animals.  I had no use for lions and tigers and bears oh my.”

She doesn’t laugh at my lame joke, but that’s because her mouth is hanging open and she just stares at me for 20 or 30 seconds, and then she shakes her head and says, “Wow.  Exactly how much money are you worth if you casually bought his entire estate that you just said was worth tens of billions of dollars?  I mean, that seems like a lot of stuff.”

I laugh and run my fingers through my hair and then pull my hand away and scowl at it because I combed my hair down tonight so it would be neat and orderly, and now it’s likely all messed up the way it usually is. 

I drop my hand and sit back and really think about her question for a moment.  Sighing, I tell her, “It is a lot, and, at this point, I would be hard-pressed to tell you an exact combined net worth off the top of my head.  I own multiple estates, 35 at least, all under different names, and I’m pretty sure the one with the lowest net worth has an estimated value of about $50 billion in modern terms.  We, that is, vampires are hoping that when we reveal ourselves to the humans this summer, we can consolidate a good chunk of our holdings, though, I will still leave a dozen or so in place for emergencies.”

She grins and says, “That makes sense.”

I tip my head in acknowledgment, so she glows at me and says, “I really need to start carrying around a recorder, so that when I get to write your story, you won’t have to repeat yourself all over again.”

I snicker and ask, “So, does that mean you don’t want me to keep telling you my history until such a time as you figure out how to make your malfunctioning phone record our conversations?”

She giggles and gives me a playful nudge with her free hand and says, “No, so tell me who else you rubbed shoulders with back in the day.  Somehow I’m thinking William Randolph Hearst and Marion Davies weren’t the only celebrities of the time that you befriended.”

Chuckling, I tell her, “You know about Garbo already.”

She giggles and says, “I still want to know if you were the reason she wanted to be alone.”

I snicker before telling her, “And I still say that you wouldn’t want me to kiss and tell, would you?”

She’s still giggling, but she shrugs one elegant shoulder and says, “No, I suppose not.”

I give her a playful nudge with my shoulder and then tell her, “Without giving away too many details, I was close to Jean Harlow at one point, as well.”

She beams at me and asks, “You went out with Jean Harlow?”

I smirk and let the question hang in the air for a couple of seconds, and then I tell her the same thing that I said to Mick a few weeks ago, “I mostly stayed _in_ with Jean Harlow.”

Beth throws her head back and laughs at that and I stare transfixed by her flaxen curls bouncing and swaying against the elegant line of her elongated neck.  She pinned her hair up on the sides, but the back of it is a tumble of silky ringlets that appear soft enough to touch.

When she finishes laughing she tips her face forward and stares at me for a minute through her eyelashes before giggling again and asking me something that I miss because I can’t get over how shiny her hair is when it bounces or how clear and smooth her complexion is. 

I can tell she’s wearing makeup, but I can also see that she’s not wearing much compared to most of the women I encounter daily.  Admittedly, many of the women I interact with are freshies, and historically their grooming habits usually don’t meet the incredibly exacting standards of the more refined vampires of the world, myself included.

My eyes focus on hers a moment later, and I smirk at the sparkling laughter in them before asking, “What?”

She rests her free hand over our joined hands and says, “You were staring, so I asked if I had something stuck in my teeth.”

Shaking my head back and forth in a lazy manner, I tell her, “No, your smile is perfect, as is the rest of you.  I was admiring the length of your throat and your hair and, well, your complexion.  They’re lovely just like every other part of you that I’ve seen thus far.”

Blushing, she ducks her head down and with a small grin on her face says, “Thank you.”

If I weren’t a vampire, I might be blushing, too, so I clear my throat, and tell her, “I was friends with Marilyn Monroe, too, though, those of us close to her called her Norma Jeane.”

She wiggles her eyebrows at me and asks, “Did you spend more time _in_ than out with her, too?”

After jerking my head from side to side, I tell her, “No, she was seeing my other friend, Jack.  You might have heard of him.  He was the 35th President of the United States.”

I laugh when she turns wide round eyes on me and just sits there without blinking for a solid minute.

She finally blinks and asks, “You were friends with JFK?”

Nodding, I tell her, “I was and still am friends with his generation of the Kennedy Clan.  Although, at this point, Teddy, his sisters Eunice and Jean, and Ethel, Bobby’s widow, are the last of those that I am close to.  Back in the day, though, I was friends with the entire clan.”

I bump my shoulder into hers and then say, “Back to Norma Jeane, when I met her in 1954, she was married to Joe DiMaggio.  However, when I introduced Norma Jeane and Jack to each other at a ball in April of 1957, she was married to Arthur Miller.  Still, she and Jack hit it off and began meeting in secret.”

I scrub my free hand over my face before telling her, “I’ve never been married, but I respect the institution and the fact that vows have been made, and if you bother to make vows then I don’t think they should be broken, so I wasn’t interested in hooking up with her.  Even if I had been interested, Jack was notoriously jealous.  Therefore, I made a point to keep my friendship with her strictly and very obviously platonic so as not to needlessly piss off someone who knew what I was _and_ had access to the media to easily disseminate that information if he chose to get back at me.  Eventually, right before he became president, I glamoured him never to share what he knew about the supernatural world, but I still wasn’t willing to risk angering him just for a piece of ass.  Besides, I thoroughly enjoyed the platonic nature of our friendship and my conversations with Norma Jeane not only lasted for hours at a time but were thoroughly enjoyable for both of us.”

Beth beams at me so I grin back and tell her, “She was considered the stereotypical dumb blonde by most, but, in reality, she was about as far from that as one could possibly get.  I mean, okay, she lacked a formal education, but she _was_ extraordinarily intelligent and well read, all things considered, so we would spend hours talking about all the history I had seen.  She would read about a period in history and then ask me to tell her what was inaccurate.”

With a squeeze of her hand in mine, I tell her, “You remind me of her quite a bit.  You have her never-ending curiosity and desire to know as much as possible about everything you can.”

I smile at the memory of Norma Jeane grilling me about the nitty-gritty details of the Roman Empire, but then I huff and tell Beth, “I was deeply saddened and extremely pissed off when I heard of her death, which, for the record, was murder, not suicide.”

Her eyes widen at that, so I shake my head and tell her, “Don’t worry, I tortured those responsible within an inch of their sanity and then ended them as painfully as I could manage.  It was the least I could do for my friend, whom the bastards killed just to keep her quiet when she had no interest in telling anyone what she knew anyway.  Her death was a complete waste.”

Beth’s eyes are the size of salad plates, but then they grow to the size of dinner plates before she asks, “You—you killed JFK, didn’t you?”

I laugh at that and rub my fingers against my brow before telling her, “I should have known you’d figure that out with so little information, but yes.  I was responsible for Jack’s death and that of a handful of others that were involved in Norma Jeane’s murder, but the others involved weren’t such high-profile people.”

Her eyebrows furrow and then smooth out before she asks, “So, Lee Harvey Oswald was innocent?”

I chuckle before saying, “Only in that he is a vampire who shot at the president as a personal favor to me.  He wasn’t the one who fired the kill shot, though.”

She’s frowning before she asks, “Jack Ruby?  Is he a vampire, too?”

I shrug and tell her, “No, but his family has been well compensated for his sacrifice.  I had to tie up all my loose ends and figure out a way to keep a vampire out of the human prison system, so my agents made a deal with Ruby to pretend to assassinate Lee.  We also paid a handful of witches to alter Lee’s appearance in both photos and real life in the years leading up to Jack’s death so that none of the photos that exist will allow anyone to recognize Lee if they see him on the street.  Of course, Lee was originally in place to kill Castro, but that plan fell through, so I used him to seek vengeance on Norma Jeane’s behalf.”

She just stares at me for three minutes straight, I know because I take out my pocket watch again and time her.  Ten seconds past the three-minute mark she asks, “RFK?”

I frown at the reminder of my fallen friend, and I expel an audible breath before telling her, “No, I had nothing to do with Bobby’s death, and for the record, I avenged him just as I avenged Norma Jeane.”

She tilts her head and says, “But Sirhan Sirhan is still alive and in prison.”

After giving two sharp nods, I tell her, “He was a patsy, and although he did fire his weapon, he didn’t fire the kill shot.  Hell, none of his shots even hit Bobby.  They all hit the wall or furniture in the kitchen.  Sirhan also wasn’t the one who orchestrated Bobby’s death.  Several top CIA officials were responsible, and they all went missing shortly after his death, and I guarantee that it wasn’t until a couple of years later that they each breathed their last breaths, though, they begged for death from the beginning.”

Her eyes are wide and round again, so I try to explain my motivation in a way that will make sense to her human sensibilities, “What you need to understand, Beth, is that vampires, as a rule, protect those they consider theirs.  When we fail to protect someone, we seek vengeance on that person’s behalf.”

I turn my body and make direct eye contact with her and then further explain, “Everything that makes us vampires makes everything about us amplified.  The change amplifies our senses.  It amplifies our strength.  Our memories, too, and it amplifies our emotions to an unbelievable level.  That means we love stronger and harder, and the memory part means that we love longer as well.  When you mix those amplifications with the loss of someone we consider ours, the result is never good.  Although, generally we make sure that the bad result falls on those responsible for harming whomever we considered ours.”

I can see from her narrowed eyes and unfocused gaze that she doesn’t fully comprehend what I’m saying, so I tell her, “Jack got off easy because his profile was too high.  Everyone else involved in Norma Jeane and Bobby’s deaths had low enough profiles that I made sure that they realized the error of their ways and then spent years begging for death before I granted them their final wish.”

I run my hand through my hair again because at this point it’s already messy, so one more run through it won’t make matters much worse, and then I tell her, “If you want a more recent example, you can take you and Mick for instance.  Mick considers you his.  This instinct of ours is why Jorge is ordering me to turn you against Mick’s wishes.  My maker knows that little else in this world will upset Mick more than your being turned by someone other than him.  Given his hatred for himself and what he is he wouldn’t turn you himself either.”

I give a heavy sigh and tell her, “Still, everything inside him is going to be screaming for him to get vengeance.  He knows he can’t do it because my maker or his people will kill him if he tries and the only thing stronger than our loyalty is our desire to survive.  Mick may hate himself but not enough to end his life.”

I pause but then exhale and add, “Truthfully, he might have killed himself after you grew old and died of old age surrounded by a football team of grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  However, I think, or at least I hoped, that the more time that passed, the more his survival instinct would kick in, and he wouldn’t go through with it.”

She leans her head to the left ever so slightly, so I tell her, “The point is, attacking someone he considers to be his is the number one way to hurt him and teach him to behave, and if it were anyone other than the Magister ordering it, he would seek revenge.  As it stands, I’m not even convinced that he won’t still try to avenge your turning.  He ran instead of staying and accepting his punishment, so he’s obviously not thinking clearly because nobody in almost 7,500 years has successfully opposed my maker, and Mick knows enough about Jorge and me to know that.  Yet, he still ran despite his unusually extensive knowledge of us, so it’s a crapshoot what he’ll do before he’s caught.”

She’s frowning, so I rub her knuckles with my thumb to try to comfort both of us and tell her, “If he doesn’t seek revenge, it’ll be for one of two reasons.  He’ll either be caught before he can do it, and Celeste will prevent him trying again in the future, or he’ll be too busy running from Jorge and Celeste to focus on avenging your human life.”

Her lips are compressed making them form a thin line, and her eyes are narrowed under her furrowed brow, so I continue explaining, “I know I mentioned last night about scheming to steal you from him.  I would have had to find a way to keep from having to challenge him, which ultimately could have cost him his life.  If I managed to find a way to turn you without having to kill him first, I would have then had to figure out a way to keep _him_ from trying to kill _me_ after the fact, which would have resulted in his death anyway.”

I exhale a sharp breath and tell her a truth that I’m sure she doesn’t understand yet, “As much as he loves me like a brother if I had stolen you through royal decree, instead of challenging him, his claim over you would have led him to seek revenge even against his best friend.  He might have even sought vengeance if I had managed to challenge him without it leading to his death.  That’s why I said this outcome is the best we could have hoped for.”

I rub the back of my neck again and tell her, “Mick knows I have no choice now but to turn you.  I’m fairly certain that he has no clue that I feel the mystical pull to turn you and secretly wanted you for myself.  That means our relationship should survive your turning in ways it wouldn’t have if I had simply turned you of my own volition because in his head it’s Jorge’s fault, not mine, well, mostly not mine.”

Her eyes narrow further before she asks, “Did your maker know of your attachment to me and your desire to turn me?”

Shit, well, I decided to be honest whenever possible, so I shrug and tell her, “Yes, but he had no way of knowing that I would help Mick kill Anders or that Terrance Martin, Anders’ maker, would file charges against us.”

She lets go of my hand, and I physically force myself not to reach out and take it back into my grasp.  Turning in her seat, she looks me straight on for a minute.  After inhaling a deep breath, she juts out her chin and asks, “Would Jorge be willing to convince Anders’ maker to file a complaint?  Would he set it up so that he could give you what you wanted in the guise of punishing you and in such a way that Mick would blame him and not you?”

I inhale a deep breath and then let it out slowly before telling her, “Yes, but, Beth, I don’t think he did.  I mean, I wouldn’t put it past him.  The man is the best strategist I know, and he would have known that it would fall on him alone to decide what happened to Mick and me and even you.  However, I think he would have told me, if not beforehand then last night when I spoke to him on the phone after you went to bed.”

Her eyes are still narrowed, and she’s biting her lip, so I tell her, “He’s entirely capable of doing what you’re suggesting, but I highly doubt he did it.  However, if you doubt my word ask him yourself the next time you see him.  A word of caution, though, only ask if two things are true.  One, make sure that only the three of us are present so that no one can overhear you.  Two, make sure you really want to know the answer because while I don’t think he did it, that doesn’t mean that he didn’t.  So, be prepared to have your suspicion confirmed if you ask, and for heaven's sake, _ask_ , don’t accuse.”

She squints at me, and after tilting her head to the left, she asks, “So, you had nothing to do with him ruling the way he did?”

Moving imperceptibly closer to her I tuck in my upper lip for a moment and then release it and tell her, “No, Beth.  Secrets like _that,_ between a maker and his childe, would have eventually festered and blown up in my face, so I would have told you up front if this was all part of some grand scheme of mine.”

Her lip trembles and her eyes become watery before she asks, “Promise?”

I jerk my head up and down a couple times and then give in to the urge to hold her when a tear escapes her eye.  I reach over and pull her into my arms before burying my face in her curls and telling her, “Beth, I promise you as your future maker this is not some grand Machiavellian scheme on my part.  Whether this is a grand Machiavellian scheme on my maker’s part is still a mystery, but I would not force you to turn like this if I had a choice.  I want a willing childe, and although you seem relatively willing, I know that if I set this up at Mick’s expense, that willingness would go out the window.”

I exhale a heavy breath and then tell her, “That was part of my dilemma that I was trying to solve before offering to turn you.  There are three standard ways to get another vampire’s human.  You can either negotiate a trade of some sort, outright challenge the human’s owner, or a vampire who feels a mystical pull to a mortal, like I do to you, has one other option.  They can bring the matter before their king or queen.  Then the royal can have his or her witches do a spell to determine the validity of the vampire’s claim that the mortal is mystically intended to be theirs and the vampire can gain ownership of the mortal that way, which we call a royal decree.”

Her breaths fan across my skin when she moves her face in tighter against my throat, so I shiver and then continue, “I think we both know that Mick would never give you to me, not for anything, especially if he knew why I wanted you.  That means the only other recourse available to me to legally acquire the right to turn you would have been to challenge him or go over his head.  Not all challenges end in death, but Mick is stubborn enough that he would not have given up until I ended him and going over his head would have undoubtedly destroyed our friendship.  I wasn’t sure what to do because I was unwilling to end my best friend or our friendship no matter how much I want you as my childe.  I feel a pull towards you, which I will explain further some other time, and it basically means that you’re mystically intended to be my childe, but the pull isn’t strong enough just yet to force me to make a move against Mick.”

Her arms tighten around me at that so I clutch her back and give in to the urge to touch her hair, which is, in fact, as soft as I thought it would be.  I stroke the back of her head a couple times and then tell her, “Eventually, the pull may have gotten overpowering enough that I would have suffered the loss of our friendship, but then Mick would have sought vengeance, forcing me to defend myself.  After all of that, you wouldn’t have been willing because you wouldn’t willingly become my childe at his expense.  That’s not the kind of person you are and therein lay my problem.  Any one of the three ways that I might have approached the situation would have inevitably led to Mick’s demise, which would have caused you to refuse my offer, and, therefore, would have made my steps to make you mine moot.”

She holds onto me a little tighter, so I pull her just a little closer and tell her, “Going back to whether this is a scheme of mine, I’m a lot of things, but I’m not _that_ much of a bastard that I would put any of us in this situation if I could help it.  Yes, this is the best possible outcome, but I consider Mick to be my brother in every way that counts, and I would _not_ sacrifice his freedom or life, and at this point, I also wouldn’t sacrifice our friendship to turn you.”

I breathe deeply and then tell her, “My biggest dilemma is that even with the pull getting stronger every day, I like you but not enough to betray my best friend in those ways.  Oh, I would have gone to Alistair, my king, and legally stolen you if I worked up the nerve and figured out how to keep Mick alive at the same time, but I would not have hidden behind my maker to do it.  Mick _and_ _you_ both deserve better than that, and I am aware of that fact and unwilling to dishonor my friendships with either of you in such a duplicitous way.”

She squeezes me tightly and says in a trembly voice, “I believe you.”

I hold her just barely tighter for a couple of seconds, and say, “Thank you,” then I push her away from me so that I can cup her cheeks with my hands before using my thumbs to gently brush her tears away.  After releasing a heavy breath, I tell her, “You lasted longer than I thought you would before you cried over this whole situation.”

She laughs and slaps at my chest before pulling away entirely and opening her purse.  Taking out a compact she opens it and glances at her reflection.  She pushes away a few smudges near her eyes and then takes out her lipstick and reapplies it before she smacks her lips together and then turns, showing me her face and asks, “Okay?”

Her foundation is light enough that there are no tear tracks, and her eyes appear even smokier with the slight smudges, so I beam at her and say, “You still look wonderful tonight, and no one will know that you’ve been crying, or rather, no humans will know.  The vampires and other supernaturals in attendance will be able to smell the salt of your tears, so they’ll know.  However, they won’t have a clue as to the reasons.  Still, most vampires in this city are aware of your involvement with Mick and your helping him solve his cases.”

She cants her head at that, so I chuckle lightly and tell her, “You’ll quickly discover that vampires, and the supernatural in general, are worse than gossiping human teenage girls in most cases, so they know quite a bit about you including Mick’s opinions on your continued mortality, too.  Anyway, my point is that by now, most will be aware of all that happened last night between Jorge’s rulings and Mick running.”

I pat her hand and tell her, “You willingly coming with me tonight as my date will send the message to the entire supernatural community that you don’t support his decision to run and that you’re willing to become my childe.  Therefore, they’ll probably assume that your tears have to do with your upset over Mick’s poor choices and his epic stupidity in the last 24 hours.  If you’re so inclined, I would allow them to continue to believe such fallacies, and really they’re not completely off base.”

She sighs dejectedly and with slumped shoulders she says, “It’s true, you know?  I don’t support or agree with the decisions Mick made last night, and I am more than willing to be your childe.  I don’t want to permanently die anytime soon, and I’d rather remain Beth Turner and become a vampire than spend the rest of my life running and looking over my shoulder.  A life that would be infinitely shorter just from my act of running.  I choose to continue to exist, and I trust you to keep me from becoming a monster, so I’m definitely throwing my chips in with yours.”

She pauses and then shrugs and adds, “Although, I didn’t realize that was what I was doing by agreeing to come with you tonight.”

I release a heavy breath and tell her, “Thank you for your trust, Beth.  I will do my best to earn and keep that trust that you are so freely giving to me.”

She smiles gently, so I grin and once again take her hand into mine and kiss the back of it before placing our joined hands on top of my thigh.  We ride the rest of the trip in silence, and when the limo pulls up to the arena, Alejandro gets out of the front passenger seat first before walking around the car and opening my door. 

Getting out, I blink against the multitude of flashes from cameras, and then after buttoning my tuxedo jacket and straightening my bow tie, I reach down taking Beth’s hand and help her out of the vehicle.  The three of us stroll past the paparazzi, and Beth and I stand in front of a backdrop for a couple of photos.

Despite Beth being a bit of a local celebrity herself from having been a reporter for Buzzwire, no one recognizes her. 

The photographers shout over each other’s voices, “Over here, Josef.”  “Who’s your date, Josef?”  “Over here.”  “Is she your new girlfriend?”  “How’d you meet?”

I studiously ignore all questions about Beth and our relationship only saying, “Beth is a good friend of mine, and she wanted to attend, so I invited her as my guest.”

That quiets most of the vultures, but not all of them.  Eventually, I tire of their shouted questions, so I lead Beth inside and up to the concourse level where the ceremony will take place.

After we reach the correct level, one of the event’s coordinators approaches us to bring me to the staging room.  Before going, I tell Beth, “Try to stay in my line of sight while I’m on stage, and whatever you do stay with Alejandro.”

She frowns and asks, “Would someone really try to grab me from such a public event?”

I audibly exhale and then tell her, “The chaos of it is the perfect setting for a snatch and grab.” I pause then add, “Maybe you should come with me.”

She brushes her hand along my arm before saying, “No, Alejandro is with me, and I’ll stay in your line of sight, but this moment should be yours and yours alone.  If I go up there with you, it’ll become about the woman with you instead of what you’ve accomplished.”

What she’s saying makes perfect sense, so I reach out and lightly caress her arm with my hand before telling her, “Okay, you’re correct, so we’ll do it your way, but if anything happens I want you to scream, okay?  Don’t worry about our secret just scream.”

She brushes her hand along my jacket sleeve again and says, “I will.”

I stare at Alejandro for a minute and slant my head towards Beth before he gives a crisp nod, so I follow the coordinator to a side room.  I barely pay attention while she tells everyone in the room what will be happening, and then we’re all walking out to the dais.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: Just a note about the history I mentioned in this chapter. Most of it is historically accurate including most of the stuff about William Randolph Hearst. Some of the things about Marylin Monroe and JFK is based on conspiracy theories that historians have proven are false. She and JFK were both at the ball in NYC in April of 1957 with their respective spouses, but formal introductions didn’t happen until years later.  
> Also, about the estimated worth of my made-up Beverly House, I just read an article that said that a house, which has just over 100,000 square feet, is set to go on the market this year for $500 Million, so I figure if Josef’s home really existed as I have written it then it’s probably worth a lot more.  
> So, I did a little research into the price of building a house in Beverly Hills. To build a 500,000 square foot palace from scratch in the L.A. area today it would cost at least $1,000/square foot on average. Josef’s home would cost at least $500 Million to build from scratch so because it’s a historical landmark built in the late 1800s and it's on a boatload of land with many outhouses and buildings I think it would cost at least two billion.  
> A special thank you to pyrodaemon who did a lot more research than I did and then shared what she found. You were a huge help, so thank you.


	6. A Better Understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: This chapter has a bit of dialog and scenes either directly quoted or paraphrased from Moonlight.  They all come from Moonlight, Season 01, Episode 16: Sonata.  I don’t own any of it.  It all belongs to those who own Moonlight and everything about it.

 

****

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Chapter 006**

**A Better Understanding**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Thursday, January 31, 2008; 7 p.m. PST**

**The Sarah Whitley Memorial Sports Arena**

**At Hearst College, Los Angeles, California**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

When I reach the stage, I stride to the far end of the platform and then stand and gaze out into the sea of people.  While the school’s president gives a small speech explaining the process involved in putting a new building on campus, I search the crowd for blonde ringlets and a crimson gown. 

I begin paying attention once I spot Beth in the crush of people.  She winks at me and I relax exponentially right around the time the president says, “Tonight, Hearst College honors Josef Kostan, whose generous donation has made possible the Sarah Whitley Memorial Sports Arena: The new home of the Hearst College Rough Riders’ Basketball Team!”

Everyone claps at that, and a few people scream out cat-calls.  The President waits a moment, and then after smiling, he continues his speech, “To commemorate this event, we’re retiring the jersey of the young man that led our team to the national championship last year.  He may have gone on to the pros, but he’ll always be Hearst’s favorite son.  Ladies and gentlemen, Number 24: Dominic Michaels!!”

Dominic stands from his chair on the dais and receives applause before he and I shake hands.  We pose for photos with the president for a few minutes, and then I’m released from my duties, so I go down the steps and enter the crowd intent on finding Beth.

I lost sight of her for a bit while we were taking photos, so I actively search for her in the crowd.  When I find her, Alejandro is standing a few feet away giving her the illusion of privacy while she talks with the freshie I originally planned to bring with me as my date. 

Simone Walker is not only one of my regular freshies, but she’s one of my lawyers, a real up-and-comer.  I usually just feed from her on Tuesdays and Fridays, but she wanted to come, and I needed a date, so I offered.

For me, it was an offer of convenience, nothing more, but I’m sure she thought it meant something because when I called her this morning and told her that she would be attending with my maker instead of me, she was not pleased, to say the least.

Therefore, I inch close enough to overhear Beth and Simone’s conversation over the room full of people talking to make sure she's not rude to Beth. 

I may have known Simone longer, but Beth is to be my childe, which means she outranks everyone else in my life except my previous childer and they only outrank her in so much as they’ve known me longer, so we have a more profound history together. 

The moment Beth agreed to become my childe, my first concerns became her safety, welfare, and happiness, so if Simone or anyone else in my life mistreats Beth, I’ll cut them out of my life faster than they can say, ‘Sorry.’

Simone’s long brown hair with honey blonde highlights is loose and curling around her shoulders and compliments her floor-length, canary yellow dress that has thin, double spaghetti straps, a deep neckline, and an empire waist.

She has her standard bangle bracelets on both arms that she uses to camouflage my bite marks, though, tonight’s bracelets are full of yellow beads that match her dress instead of the gold ones she wears during the week.

Simone takes a sip of her wine and then asks Beth, “So, you came with Josef?  How do you know him?”

I chuckle to myself because she’s trying to figure out if Beth knows what I am without coming out and asking a question that could endanger my secret.  That’s something at least.

Beth smiles and says, “A friend of Josef’s introduced us.  I’m an associate of his friend.”

That’s my girl, tell her the truth but not too much.  My grin widens when Beth changes the subject and says, “This is great, isn’t it?  I feel like I’m back at my high school prom.”

I chuckle out loud when my maker saunters up to them and tells Beth, “Prom wasn’t really a thing back in my day.  High School either.  Locust, plagues and pestilence were the things.”

My maker is wearing a tuxedo much like mine, though instead of a cummerbund he’s wearing a crimson vest underneath his jacket.

He’s grinning widely, and my laughter is initially because Simone looks like a fish with her mouth opening and closing at my maker’s seemingly uncharacteristic comments and demeanor.

Beth almost imperceptibly leans towards my maker and says, “Hello, umm, I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t know your last name, only your first, and calling you by your given name would be wholly inappropriate given our respective positions.”

My chuckles continue, but this time it’s because of how well-suited Beth is to her new life while my maker smiles even more fully.  He’s clearly inordinately pleased with Beth’s comment, so he takes her hand and tells her, “Jorge Alonso de San Diego at your service Ms. Turner.”

He kisses the back of her knuckles causing her to beam at him and say, “It’s a pleasure and honor to meet you again Mr. de San Diego, or do you prefer Señor de San Diego?”

He inclines his head and says, “The latter is my honorific of choice.”

Beth smiles wide enough to show all her teeth and says, “Great, now, Señor de San Diego, as for plagues and pestilence, I have to be honest, I don’t envy you that part of living for so long. Seeing history and experiencing everything you’ve seen first-hand while it happened would be fabulous, but I can’t imagine that the scent of all those rotting corpses sat well with such a finely tuned sense of smell. The lack of indoor plumbing probably wasn’t much fun either.”

Now, I’m laughing at my maker because his eyes widen at her words a tad before returning to normal, so no one who wasn’t looking would know that his infamous poker face cracked for a split second.  I saw it clear as day, though, so I know that he’s impressed by Beth’s insight.  He smiles that rare soft grin reserved for those he considers his that is without any condescension or malice and tells her, “Indeed Ms. Turner.  It was a test of our ability to hold our breaths for years on end.”

She laughs and then smiling tells him, “Um, if you like, you can call me Beth.  I don’t expect to receive the same honor, but, again, given our respective roles, it seems appropriate for you to be more familiar with me than I am with you.”

He’s relaxed, and his muscles are loose, and he’s still smiling, which is not his normal facial expression.  He usually smirks or sneers, but this soft turning of his lips upward is something I’ve only ever seen him give to me and my blood-siblings and our childer _after_ they turned, so I furrow my brow and narrow my eyes when he gives a leisurely nod and says, “Thank you, Beth.”

Is Beth correct?  Is this whole situation the result of my maker scheming?  Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful if it is, but how will Beth handle it if it turns out that her theory is correct?  There is truly little in this world that I want more than for my maker and my childe not just to get along but to care for each other.  I send up a prayer, _‘Please, no matter what the answers to Beth’s questions are let the result be conducive to my wishes for us all to be a happy family.’_

Beth beams back at him before my maker turns and stares at Simone before he sneers at the glare she’s shooting towards Beth.  He glances back at Beth and smiling at her tells her, “If you’ll excuse us, Beth, I’m in need of refreshment, and the Champagne isn’t cutting it.”

She grins and tilts her head to the left and tells him, “Of course, uh, when you get back maybe you can tell me if I should, uh, offer to Josef.”

He makes direct eye contact with her, and then he shakes his head and says, “You are much more than food, Beth.  Neither Josef nor I see you that way, and neither of us would expect you to do that, and, really, you shouldn’t lower yourself to the vermin’s level.  You are better than that, you’re one of the few chosen ones.”

She’s frowning somewhat, so he tells her, “Remember there are distinct roles for everyone and _you_ are not food, far from it, in fact.  I’m not the sort that offers to bring food into my family, and neither is Josef.  I’m sure he’s made other arrangements to meet those particular needs.”

I had a drink with a freshie before meeting up with Beth back at the house, so I won’t be needing that sort of refreshment while we’re here.

Beth now has a small smile on her face, instead of her previous frown, so Jorge turns to Simone and tells her, “Come,” and then he turns and strides away without waiting to see if she’ll follow.

Simone stares at Beth with her eyes narrowed, so I stroll up to them, and after placing my hand in the small of Beth’s back, I tell Simone, “If I were you, I would hurry because my maker does not appreciate being made to wait.  Oh, and a word of advice Simone, refrain from giving Beth those nasty looks, or my maker and I will both sever our arrangements with you.”

Her eyes widen, and her frown smooths out before she jerks her head up and down and hurries off after my sire.

When she’s gone, I turn to look at Beth and with a cocky grin on my face, I tell her, “Jorge’s right, Beth.  I view you as so much more than food.  You are my future childe, and while I’m looking forward to tasting you when I turn you, I really have no desire to demean you in that way.”

She purses her lips and narrows her eyes before she says, “It doesn’t seem demeaning to me at all.  Nourishing you seems more like an honor.  And uh, when I fed Mick out in the desert, it felt good, really good, even though I was scared senseless that he was going to die.”

I chuckle and lean in closer to her before saying, “I’m surprised that he had the wherewithal to make it enjoyable.  Based on what he told me about that night I figured it wasn’t painful, but it probably wasn’t enjoyable either.  Plus, Mick hasn’t live fed since he returned you to your mother, to be honest, so I was sure between his lack of practice and his extreme amount of sun exposure that day that he lacked finesse in his extraction.”

She giggles but says, “No, it felt absolutely amazing.”

I smirk and brush my hand along hers before telling her, “Wait until I turn you and then you can compare our techniques and see if my advanced years and millennia of practice have helped _me_ perfect _my_ bite.”

She laughs outright at that, so I grin and bump her shoulder with mine before telling her, “As for our usual food, feeding us _is_ an honor for the freshies, but we don’t have conversations with them or at least not particularly interesting ones.  We certainly don’t share our histories with them.”

Beth tilts her head to the side, so I take her hand in mine and squeeze gently before telling, “You need to understand that my maker’s comments about high school and the plague were directed towards you Beth, not you _and_ Simone, _just you_.  He doesn’t talk with his food any more than you would try to have a conversation with a cow or a chicken.  You are a rare quantity, especially because I doubt he even remembers Simone’s name.”

My eyes widen, and I lean in towards her and say, “I’ll be honest, any time a vampire meets someone like you they almost immediately begin considering if they are compatible enough with the individual to offer eternity to him or her.  I have never once wanted to drink your blood beyond turning you, not because I don’t think that you’re good enough or that your blood wouldn’t be palatable, quite the opposite really.  In fact, you smell better than anyone I’ve ever met in my long life, so I’m quite sure that your blood will be outstanding.”

I shrug and tell her, “Mostly, I don’t want to feed on you because, in my humble opinion and my maker’s too, you are above all of that.  You are the future childe of Josef Kostan and the future grandchilde of Jorge Alonso de San Diego.  That means something in our community, and if anyone tries to feed on you between now and when I turn you I need you to tell me immediately because you are not now, nor ever, going to be someone’s food, and my claim over you legally prevents others from feeding on you.”

Her eyes are round again, but she says, “Okay, um, thank you for thinking so highly of me.”

I smile and open my mouth to comment that she makes it effortless to think so highly of her, but my maker beats me to it when he comes up behind her and says, “You deserve it, Dear.”

Beth turns her face toward him and beams at that obviously understanding that that’s high praise coming from my maker.  She turns her body and glances at him before saying, “Hmm, you’re looking a little pinker.  I’ll have to remember to keep an eye out for your skin turning paler.  Um, if you don’t mind me asking, and if you do mind then just ignore me, but um, that was kind of quick, no?  Don’t you savor your meals?  Or is that not a thing with vampires?”

My maker lets out a booming laugh, and every pair of vampire eyes in the room, about 15 of them, immediately shift to see what filled the legendary Jorge Alonso de San Diego with so much mirth.  I watch while each set of eyes that jumps to us widens when the vampire realizes it’s Beth, _a human,_ who is eliciting that response from him.  That will work in her favor and make them all treat her with far more respect than they would have before her turning.

He touches her arm and tells her, “If she had tasted anything like I’m sure you do, then I would have taken my time and savored her, but, as it is, she must take an iron supplement to keep up with feeding Josef, and she’s probably taking more than necessary.  It’s made her blood a bit on the tinny side.  I took enough to slake my thirst, but that is all.”

She smiles gently, but I shake my head a touch, and with a heavy sigh I tell him, “I’ll speak to Simone about reducing the amount of iron she takes.”

He lifts and then drops one shoulder and says, “If it doesn’t bother you, then it makes no difference to me.  After all, I won’t be feeding on her again.”

He had planned to utilize her services on occasion, so if he’s decided not to use her at all, then she must have done something, either being disrespectful, rude, or somehow abrasive and caused him to change his plans.  His regard of Beth seems high enough that Simone’s earlier sneering at Beth might have been enough to change his mind.

Frowning, I tell him, “The iron tablets must be new because I fed from her on Tuesday and I didn’t notice it.  I have strict rules that my freshies aren’t to consume any medicines, minerals, or vitamins that Dr. Ludwig doesn’t specifically tell them to take, so technically what you’re telling me is that my freshie is in violation of our agreement.”

He inclines his head, so I slowly nod back.  Beth opens her mouth to say something, but a scuffle between Dominic and a pale young man with brown hair a few yards away diverts her attention.

They push at each other for a moment before another man pushes the brown-haired man away from Dominic and says, “Back off Hank!”

There is a flush to Dominic’s dark skin, well, as much as possible on a black man, and he puffs his chest and takes a step towards Hank who does the same.  Sensing the impending inevitability of the fight, Lisa, one of the 15 or so Vampires in attendance grabs Dominic’s arm and tells him, “Dominic, Don’t.”

My good friend, Jackson, intervenes and after stepping between Dominic and his would-be attacker tells the young man, “Cool off, Hank, or get out.  Okay?”

Jackson’s wife, Emma, moves beside Dominic and holds his arm and after placing her hand on his chest, she tells him, “Calm down, it’s over.”

I bring my attention back to my date when Beth inclines her head towards my friends and asks, “Who are those two?”

Grinning, I glance over at Emma and Jackson.  Emma is wearing a floor length midnight blue gown with silver accents and Jackson is wearing a tuxedo with a matching blue bow tie and vest underneath the jacket.

They both have brown hair, though Emma has her long tresses twisted and pinned up tonight, and Jackson has a neatly combed and styled shorter cut.

They appear to be a couple that’s in their mid-thirties to early-forties, but, in reality, they’re much, much older so I glance down at Beth’s upturned face while she patiently waits for my answer and then tell her, “They’re Dominic’s managers, Emma and Jackson Monaghan.”

Beth narrows her eyes, probably sensing that there is more to the story, so I chuckle and then tell her, “They’ve gotten my maker and me courtside seats to every Lakers’ game since Wilt Chamberlain played for them.”

Her eyes flash, and her back straightens before she lowers her voice and leaning in towards me she asks, “Dominic’s managers are vampires?”

I grin and tell her, “They’ve been married for something like 150 years.  Emma came over on a ship during the Potato Famine, and a mysterious vampire turned her during the voyage.  I don’t believe she ever saw her sire and when she got to New York, she felt drawn to the fights because her brother boxed before he died.  Anyway, Jackson was a successful fighter in the circuit, and when they met, I believe Emma felt the same type of pull that I feel towards you.  She was only a year or so into being a vampire at the time, though, and it is incredibly rare for such a young vampire to feel the pull.”

Beth's hand is wrapped around my forearm, and she’s leaning against me with her dreamy ‘I’m learning history’ face on.  I smile and tell her, “I was visiting an old friend in New York, and we attended the boxing matches and met them both, and I sort of took Emma under my wing and taught her what her absentee maker never did.  When she wanted to turn Jackson, I consulted my maker, and he felt that they would both behave well enough not to make such a thing disastrous.  Even still, Emma and Jackson came here to California so I could keep an eye on them, and they waited a few years before Emma turned him.  It had the potential to turn out very badly, but it worked out perfectly, and I’m not aware of anyone involved regretting the decision to allow her to turn him.  Anyway, they were officially married for the first time on New Year’s Day of 1855.”

Beth’s eyes widen, but I have to hold in a chuckle when she practically bounces on the balls of her feet before asking, “153 years of marriage?  That gives a whole new meaning to ‘‘til death do us part.’”

A new song begins playing in the background, so I grin before holding out my free hand and asking, “Do you want to dance?”

She grins and takes my hand allowing me to spin her onto the makeshift dance floor.

We dance for a few minutes before she fiddles with my bow tie and says, “153 years with one person, that seems like a long time.”

I grin and lean down to her ear and maybe flirt a little when I tell her, “Well, it depends who you’re with.”

I pull back in time to see her smile, so I tell her, “You understand that you’re to be my childe, right?”

She gives an unhurried nod, so I say, “I won’t be releasing you until after we’ve been together for a few hundred years at least.  Do you remember Rider who used his computer skills to help us find Mineo while he was on his killing spree?”

After she tilts her head to the left, and I take that as a yes, so I grin and tell her, “I don’t know if you know this, but he’s my childe, your future blood-brother.”

She shakes her head, so with a high chin and a knowing grin, I tell her, “He is, and he’s been a vampire for 174 years, and I have yet to release him.”

A frown grows on her face, so I guess at the reason and tell her, “The only reason he went to Venezuela for a few months instead of staying here with me is that the human government took an interest in him after he hacked the Pentagon for me.  He went and stayed with my younger blood brothers, Saúl and Q.  Saúl is a sheriff in Venezuela, and, as a rule, Venezuela doesn’t cooperate with the American Government, so that allowed Rider to lay low for a few months.  He, or, really, we, hated being parted so much that Rider created a new identity and staged his own death so that he can come back earlier than planned because being apart from each other bothers us both so much.”

Her head tilts again, and her brows rise towards her hairline, so I tell her, “I think I told you that I wasn’t released until I had been a vampire for just under 380 years and even _that’s_ young by most standards.  The only reason my maker released me at such an early age was that it was necessary for me to assume the role of sheriff.  It could be much longer than 400 years before I release you.  Once I feel you can survive on your own and that I’ve taught you all that I can, we’ll discuss whether you want to be released.”

She tightens her hold on me a little, so I tell her, “If our relationship plays out how I’m hoping it will, neither one of us will be eager for me to release you.  I’m trying to build an eternal relationship with you, and by the time I even consider releasing you, Jackson and Emma’s 153-year-long marriage will be child’s play compared to how long we will have been together.”

She shrugs one elegant shoulder, so I spin her out and then pull her back into my arms and tell her, “We’re not in love like they are, and after my one and only experience with love I’m hesitant to open my heart like that.  Therefore, I’m not planning for our relationship to take that turn, but I’ve learned in my more than 5,400 years on this earth that it’s best not to rule anything out and never say never.  Still, I almost think a proper maker/childe relationship is even stronger and more lasting than a marriage could ever be.”

Her brows pinch together and then smooth out before she says, “I always thought of the maker/childe relationship like a parent/kid thing, I mean I know from Coraline and Mick that the maker and childe can be involved in ways that children and their parents shouldn’t be but I just…”

I shrug one shoulder and then lean in close before telling her, “In some respects that’s accurate, but it’s more complicated than that.  There are parent/child aspects to the relationship in that it’s the sire’s responsibility to teach the childe how to be a proper vampire.  However, there are friend and lover aspects even if the two parties aren’t in love.  I’ll be honest, Beth, makers and their childer often have physical relationships.”

She pulls her face from its resting place on my shoulder and with narrowed eyes asks, “You mean I’ll be expected to sleep with you?”

I shake my head firmly and then tell her, “I’m not such a monster that I would _require_ anyone to have sexual relations with me for _any_ reason.  If you’re unwilling, then I _will_ respect that.  However, most childer find comfort in that sort of relationship with their maker.  I’m willing if you are, Beth, but I will leave that decision up to you in its entirety.”

Pausing in my explanation, I swing her out for another spin, and when she settles back into my arms, I tell her, “I will call the shots in most aspects of your life once you turn until we decide we want me to release you.  However, I am of the belief that every man and woman should have full control over what happens to his or her body regarding sex.  I’ll punish you if necessary, and it will be physical and incredibly painful in a lot of cases, but I won’t sexualize your punishments and if you choose not to entertain me sexually, then I can and _will_ respect that.”

She sighs and says, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions or accuse you.  I know you’re not like that.  I just—”

I place my finger over her soft lips and tell her, “You’re just entering a new life, and you have no idea what the rules are so you’re nervous, which, for the record, is completely understandable.  I need you to talk to me, though, okay?  Don’t assume that you know what’s going on.  Ask me questions when you’re uncertain as to what’s expected of you, okay?”

She just gives a gentle nod, so I pull her head to my shoulder and turn us around on the dance floor a few more times.  A minute later she whispers, “I’m not opposed to that sort of thing if it’s my choice.”

I laugh at that and tell her, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She brushes her cheek against my shoulder and then asks, “So, you’re planning for us to be close for 400 years at least?”

With a shake of my head, I pull her face away from my shoulder again, and with my hands on her cheeks I gaze into her eyes before telling her, “No Beth, I’m planning for us to be close for the remainder of our existences.  The 400-year mark is just when I will consider giving you a bit more freedom.”

Her eyes narrow and her brow furrows before she asks, “Has a vampire ever never released their childe?”

I give a leisurely nod, and then I tell her, “My blood-sister refused when our maker offered to release her.  He only offered because he had released me and she’s older, and Jorge didn’t want Celeste to think he thought less of her or her ability to take care of herself.  He finally stopped offering over a millennium ago.  He hasn’t released two of my three younger blood-brothers, though, one of them is only 634 years old, and, again, he only released Saúl because he became a sheriff, too.”

She gives a gentle smile and shifts in my arms slightly, so I tighten my hold on her and tell her, “I personally haven’t released any of my childer either despite some of them being well over 4,000 years old.  The connection between a maker and his childe, well, I don’t think I have the words to accurately describe it, but there is little in this world that I’ve ever found that feels better than that connection.  Before you’re released even a simple brush of skin feels amazing and comforting, to both childe and sire, in ways that it won’t anymore after you’re released.  I mean, it’ll still feel better than touching someone I have no blood link to, but before a vampire is released the connection between maker and childe is hypersensitive.”

My brows gather in, and I resist the urge to scrub a hand over my face and instead squeeze her just a bit before telling her, “That loss of connection is the one thing I regret about agreeing to become a sheriff.  I mean my maker and I have never been closer emotionally and mentally and even physically, but mystically I miss that feeling more than I miss most things.”

She squeezes my hand holding hers almost imperceptibly, so I smile and spin her out again and then while she laughs I settle her back in my arms.  Her giggles fade away, and we dance in silence for a moment and sway through a song change. 

I tighten my hold on her just a touch, and then I tell her, “My sire made it perfectly clear that the only reason he was offering to release me was so that if I wanted to take the king up on his offer of a position in the government I would be able to do that.  It still took me a year, and quite a bit of coaxing by my former king before I agreed, and my maker released me.”

Glancing down at the top of her head, she must sense me looking at her because she shifts so she can see my face even with her cheek resting on my shoulder.  I smile gently and tell her, “I think my reluctance to being released coupled with my maker’s reluctance to do it is why we both work so hard to keep in daily contact.”

Her smile is soft, and she tightens her hold on me, so I beam back at her and say, “We are, in my opinion, successfully making up for the loss of that bond.  It’s hard work sometimes, and no matter how hard we work we’ll never completely get that mystical bond back, but we have every other possible bond in spades.  Like I said, that’s because we both work hard at staying close in every other way possible.  It’s been my experience that the things worth having or doing are rarely the ones that come easy.  If you and I both want to be close for eternity, it will take work, with or without my releasing you, but I guarantee that it will be worth every bit of effort we both put into the relationship.”

She smiles wider, reaches up on her toes, and kisses my cheek before telling me, “I’m looking forward to forever with you Josef, regardless of the nature of our relationship.”

I smirk and lean in and kiss her cheek back before breathing into her ear, “Me too, Blondie.”

She ducks her head and a blush blooms across her cheeks before she peeks at me through her lashes and says, “Being close to you already brings me comfort and this weird sense of peace that I can’t explain.  I felt it that first time we met when you took my hand and shook it, and I’ve felt it every time I’ve been near you ever since.  I, um, I thought about asking Mick about it, but—”

I cut her off and tell her, “It’s for the best that you didn’t.  He would have known what it means, and he would not have reacted favorably towards either of us.”

She tilts her head and narrows her eyes, so I stall and spin her out and then pull her back into my arms.  I plan to explain about the pull in full at some point.  I’m not too keen on doing it in public, but I think if I do it now, and I word it correctly the vampires here will overhear and spread the crucial points to the rest of the community.  Despite me wanting to keep certain things private that might work in our favor more than me keeping it all to myself. 

Therefore, I gaze down into her crystal-clear sky-blue eyes and tell her, “What you’re describing is the human end of a mystical bond.  I feel it, too, and it means that I should make you my childe.  Mystically you’re intended or meant to be my childe.”

Her eyes widen at that, so I hold her closer and tell her a truth I only just figured out, “If you die without becoming my childe, I’ll feel a hole, for lack of a better way to put it, where our bond currently resides inside me.  I’m not sure if you’d feel the same thing if I died, but I know from my experiences with Mick that I would feel it if you died.”

I release a heavy sigh and then tell her and any vampire listening to us a secret that even Mick doesn’t know, “I felt the pull to him when I met him in 1952, but I was distracted, and I left L.A. and moved to New York without fulfilling the bond.  Coraline turned him, and I felt it the night he turned and knew deep in my soul that something had changed and not for the better.  It wasn’t until I re-met him and figured out the date of his turning that I began to understand what had happened.  I think the hole was less than it would have been if he had died a final death instead of Coraline turning him, but I still felt it until I re-turned him.  Now the hole is gone and has been replaced with the bond a maker and childe would have after the childe has been released.”

I hold in my frown while I overhear several vampires begin whispering about what I just said.  Instead, I continue and tell Beth, “What you’re feeling is the same pull I feel towards you, but it’s muted because you’re still mortal.  Most humans don’t even notice it, so it says something about your self-awareness that you consciously feel it.  Anyway, for me, just touching you like this, right now, is bringing me the same comfort I’d have if I were holding one of my childer only faintly less profound because we don’t share blood yet.”

Her jaw drops a little at that, so I smile and tell her, “Experience tells me that it will only get stronger for both of us once I turn you and we share blood.”

Her eyes are wide, and then they narrow before she asks, “I’m mystically meant to be your childe?”

As my maker and I said last night, Beth deserves the honor of people knowing that I chose her without my maker’s input, and this is my chance to make that happen.  I give a gentle smile and then tilt my head to the side and picking my words carefully and perhaps strategically repeating myself I tell her, “Yes.  No one is sure what causes the connection, but I’ve turned 15 childer, including Mick, and I felt the pull to turn all but two of them, so it’s happened to me enough that I know what it means.  Anyway, as we’ve already discussed if Mick wouldn’t have objected, I would have offered to turn you.  His opinions on your humanity and its continuation are well-known, though, so like I’ve said several times, my hands were tied because I was unwilling to betray him even to make you my childe.”

I’m sure Mick will be keeping his ear to the ground and keeping up-to-date on the goings on here while he’s gone, so I exhale a long breath.  What I’m about to say is a truth that most vampires should already know but that Mick knowing makes me nervous.  Still, I take a deep breath and then release it before saying, “Whether that would have remained true remained to be seen.  Mick’s not the only human I felt that connection with and didn’t immediately turn.  I’ve resisted turning one other vampire I felt the pull to while they were human, and it got stronger and stronger until it became unbearable, and I finally gave in, so it’s possible the pull would have eventually overridden my loyalty to Mick.  I haven’t gotten to that point yet, and I was trying to figure out a way to keep everyone alive and still follow the Goddess’ wishes by turning you, but I had yet to figure out an acceptable solution.”

I shrug and then confident in my strategy to feed the community specific details, I tell Beth and the other vampires present, “My maker’s ruling has overridden my wish to keep my relationship with Mick intact and untarnished.  Jorge knew what he was doing, and his punishment for me isn’t that I have to turn you it’s the fact that now that chasm I feared would form between Mick and me is likely going to slide into place, and our friendship will never be the same.  The only beneficial thing for our friendship about my hand being forced is that the chances of Mick remaining alive, even after you’re turned, are higher this way, but our friendship will likely never be the same again, and it’s entirely possible that it’ll be dissolved entirely.”

She pulls away somewhat, and with wide eyes, she says, “I know I thanked you last night for helping save me, but I’m sorry, for my part in all of this.”

I rest my finger over her lips again and tell her, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Beth.  You had a case, and you did your job and followed the leads, and they led you to a vampire who was misbehaving.  The only problem I have with how anyone handled the case is that Mick’s response was to kill Anders.  That falls on Mick for planning to murder him and me, to a lesser degree, for not realizing that Mick planned to kill Anders all along.  You, your former boss, whom so far as I know Anders murdered in cold-blood, and A.D.A. Talbot are the only innocent parties in this whole mess, so I don’t want you to feel guilty, okay?  You did nothing wrong.”

There are tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, but she shakes her head a tad and asks, “You think his murder of Anders was premeditated?”

My shoulders slump, and I let out a dejected sigh before pulling her tighter to me and telling her and the vampires in the room, “Yes.  I’ve been replaying the whole thing over and over in my mind.  Mick didn’t take out his machete until after he staked Anders.  You and A.D.A. Talbot were no longer in any danger, and I was about to call Vincent and have him come and get Anders so that _he_ could stand trial for _his_ bad behavior when Mick killed him.  I think Anders is dead because he kicked Mick’s temporarily mortal ass and took you, Mick’s human.  At the time that Anders took you, Mick was just as human.  That means he had no official claim on you, but he said, ‘He has Beth, _my_ Beth,’ to me in his plea for me to help him, so I’m sure in hindsight that he killed Anders out of revenge.”

Her eyes are narrowed, and her brow is furrowed, so I shake my head a little and tell her, “Killing other supes in retaliation for their bad behavior is wholly unacceptable any way you look at it.  If Mick had killed Anders at his office when he attacked you, Mick, and A.D.A. Talbot then that would have been self-defense, and Mick wouldn’t have been punished.  Mick got his ass kicked instead and then hours later turned around, and himself attacked Anders.”

She’s frowning something fierce, and instead of making eye contact with her I stare at her nose and ask, “You know that saying, ‘two wrongs don’t make a right?’  Well, that’s especially true in the supernatural world.  The proper response to Anders kidnapping you would have been to rescue you and the A.D.A. and stake Anders before bringing the matter and Anders paralyzed body to me, the sheriff, who would then bring the matter to Jorge, the magister, if I thought the situation warranted it.  For the record, taking another vampire’s human is an offense punishable by having your fangs pulled and being staked for a few decades at least, but up to several centuries, depending on what you did to or with that human before its owner took it back.  Mick’s claim on you was well established, so I could and would rule in his favor and bring Anders before Jorge for multiple crimes including kidnapping.”

I release a long exhale of breath and then still staring at a freckle on the tip of her nose, I continue explaining, “No matter how much my maker can’t stand Mick he would have ruled in Mick’s favor.  Anders would have been fined and then physically punished for a few centuries because he actually took blood from you.  I thought that our mission was solely a rescue mission and that I’d have to assert myself as the sheriff.  The fight was quick, though, so Anders was staked before I had to order him to stand down.  Like I said, I had my phone in my hand to call both Vincent and the Cleaners to come to pick up Anders and clean up his blood selling operation, but Mick chopped off his head before I could push send.”

She sort of scowls, but I’m not sure exactly why she’s making that face, so I spin her out and then just as a new song begins to play I pull her back into my arms.  When she settles in the circle of my arms, she frowns and says, “Mick is really messed up, huh?”

I shrug with one shoulder, so she inclines her head and says, “The more I hear about your world, and Mick’s behavior, the more I think this mess is all of Mick’s creation.  He made this clusterfuck with his bad habits and his stubborn and pigheaded ways, and then he didn’t have the stones to stay and accept his punishment.  Instead, he ran and just made everything worse.”

I release a sharp breath and tell her, “You’re right, of course.  I didn’t see it when it was happening because I was too close in the years leading up to this to realize what was slowly occurring, so I unintentionally stood idly by.  That gets my goat, too.  Mick knows me better than most, so he knew that I would hate all of this.  Still, he roped me into his bad behavior even knowing that I wouldn’t approve, and I hate his willful disregard of my feelings the most.”

She tightens her hold on my hand and shoulder and lowers her voice before saying, “You love him like a brother, but I don’t think he treats you with as much respect and love as you treat him.  You’ve repeatedly said that you put off offering to turn me because you knew he wouldn’t approve, and, yet, you just admitted that he knowingly and willfully went against your wishes and even tricked you into breaking the law.  He uses the ‘Vampires are all monsters’ trope to excuse his not giving you as much as you give him in your relationship, and that’s not fair to you.  From what I can tell, you’ve given Mick every bit of you, and he’s thrown that back in your face by causing you to be a party to murder.  He’s lucky you didn’t lose your position as sheriff or I’m not sure I’d be willing to forgive him.”

I shake my head and tell her, “The supernatural world works under the assumption that accidents happen from time to time.  That means provided I don’t make a habit of helping people murder other supes I won’t lose my position.  It’s all about intent and habits.  My maker and everyone else knows that I’m not in the habit of misbehaving, and although I didn’t tell Jorge the finer details of what happened with Anders, I’m sure he knew that I had no intention of killing anyone when I went with Mick to rescue you.  He also just as likely realizes that Mick probably did exactly what he intended to do that night.”

She lets out a gust of air and says, “I’m still grateful that the only punishment you’re essentially receiving is the destruction of a toxic relationship.”

I give a dejected sigh and tell her, “I’m still hoping it won’t be completely destroyed, and once Celeste gets custody of Mick, she should be able to rehabilitate him enough to make him treat me the way I treat him, like a brother.”

She frowns and then tells me, “I maybe love Mick, or at least I was heading that way, but I can see now that he doesn’t deserve you, not even close.  I think he maybe doesn’t deserve me either because I’m pretty sure that if I had stayed at that diner like he told me to, he would have convinced me to run with him and he would have done it by withholding crucial details from his explanation of what was going on.  He would have spun things to make me do what he wanted and completely disregarded my free will.  You, on the other hand, came to me and explained in graphic detail what was going on and gave me all the information I needed to make a fully informed decision.”

She releases a heavy breath and then says, “Don’t get me wrong, I still love him, but I think my blinders have been taken off and I’m beginning to see him more clearly.”

I exhale a breath that’s loud in my ears because my blinders are gone, too, and I can’t say I’m enjoying the view.  I don’t respond verbally, though, and instead spin Beth out again.  A moment later I pull her back into my arms, and we just dance for a minute before she lowers her voice and asks, “You—did you and your maker, um, well, did you and he have, um—"

I can guess what she’s having such a tough time asking, so I chuckle before asking her, “Did we have sex?”

She blushes, but neither confirms nor denies my question, so, smiling, I treat it like a yes and tell her, “Yes.  Jorge was the first, and I’ve since had sex with about two handfuls of other men, all of them of mine or my grandsire, Roman’s line: Roman, my maker, my blood-brothers, my sire’s blood-nephew, Godric, Godric’s childe, Eric, and my four male childer, including Vincent and Rider.  My physical relationships with the 11 of them had more to do with our blood connection and getting comfort out of being that close to someone with whom I share a blood link.”

Beth tilts her head, and a question mark is written all over her face between her narrowed eyes, furrowed brow, and pursed lips, so I smirk and tell her, “The connection from a blood link is similar in feel to the bond between a maker and his childe before he releases the childe.  They’re vaguely different, but both make touch, and sex, in particular, especially comforting.  That’s why makers and their childer usually have physical relationships, even after the sire releases the childe.  For the most part, though, I’m only physically attracted to women.”

Her eyes are wide open now, but she just stares at me for a few seconds before she opens her mouth and asks, “Did you and Mick…?”

I swing my head back and forth and tell her, “No.  Based on what I know of his upbringing, I thought it best not to offer.  Honestly, it might have made him feel better, that comfort I could have brought him.  I was sure he would have a knee-jerk reaction to my offering, though, and I feared that to offer would do more harm than good, so I chose not to bring the possibility up to him.”

She narrows her eyes and tightens her hold on me a touch, so I tell her, “He’s made comments about other vampires who outwardly showed that sort of affection and connection with same-sex childer, so I’m pretty sure he’s homophobic if only due to when he was raised.  Back when I was human people were much more open to that sort of thing than they were when Mick was human.  Humanity has begun to return to that openness and understanding of those who find comfort and love with people of the same sex.  However, vampires born and raised in times that were less accepting are themselves generally less accepting.”

I swing her out once more, and when she settles in my arms again, I tell her, “I’ve heard of several childer who reacted violently to just the idea of it.  In all three cases, their sires had to issue Maker Commands to calm their childer down enough to prevent anyone from being harmed.  As much as I love Mick like a brother, I’m sure he would have reacted similarly.  Now that I know that I can’t Command him, I think that it would have been disastrous, so it’s better that I didn’t offer.”

She frowns and opens her mouth to reply.  Before she can speak, I hold up my hand forestalling her words.  Her mouth snaps shut while every vampire in the room stands just a tad straighter and focuses on the sound of a muffled scream and a splash of water.  Then maybe 15 seconds later a scream that’s audible to the humans in the room rips through the arena.

Beth doesn’t say what she was going to say and instead grabs my hand and rushes towards the sound and possible danger.  When we enter one of the new training rooms, my senses are on high alert, but I sense no supernaturals in the space.

The first thing we notice is Dominic in his underwear, laying half in and half out of a tub full of water.  The angle of his neck tells me that it’s broken.

Beth gasping and asking in a breathy voice, “Simone?” draws my attention away from Dominic’s body

Striding further into the room, I find Simone sitting against the wall on a bench.  The front of her bright-yellow dress, from her chest to the tops of her thighs, is a darker yellow than the rest of her dress and her arms still have a thin sheen and little individual droplets of water on them. 

She’s clenching her arms to her chest, and her clasped hands rest under her chin while she rocks backward and forwards on the bench and nibbles on her bottom lip.  She has tears in her eyes when she looks at me.  It takes a moment for her eyes to focus on me but when they do the tears fall, and with a noticeable tremble in her voice, she says, “I didn’t do it.”

Crap.  As if having a death at an event attended by so many vampires isn’t enough of a danger, now one of my freshies is going to be the prime suspect.

My fists clench at my side, and I grind my teeth together for a moment before I tell her, “Say nothing.  I will call Harold and get a lawyer to attend to you.”

She doesn’t respond verbally or physically and just continues to rock back and forth while staring across the room at nothing, so I lead Beth out of the little room and pull out my cell phone. 

I call my lead attorney, Simone’s boss, and quickly explain what I know.  He assures me that he will send someone to the police station immediately to meet her when the police inevitably take her into custody.

I want to leave, but when I say, “Beth, we should go,” she shakes her head and says, “I can’t Josef.  I’m an investigator for the D.A.’s office.  If I leave the scene of a suspicious death without speaking to the police, I’ll not only call attention upon us, but I’ll be risking my job, which I’m pretty sure we decided I’m better off keeping.”

She glances around, and although she lowers her voice to some extent, she says, “Anyone who can hear me, know that if you leave now, right after a body has been found, you’ll only be calling attention to yourself.  Wait and answer any questions tonight, and then the humans won’t have any reason to look at you any deeper than surface level.”

Despite my earlier knee-jerk desire to leave, what she’s saying makes sense, so at a sub-audible level I add, “As your Sheriff, I order you all to stay and cooperate with the authorities.  Do not call attention to us by acting suspicious and leaving.”

The vampires present incline their heads at me almost imperceptibly, and they all respond with various versions of “Yes, Sheriff.”

I smile that none of them are trying my now slim patience, and then we wait for the police to show up and start asking questions.  Three minutes into our wait Beth asks, “Exactly how many vampires are present?”

I narrow my eyes and think back over everyone I saw tonight and then tell her, “Fifteen or sixteen, why?”

Lowering her voice, Beth says, “I’ll try to get put on this case and keep anyone from asking the wrong questions about the wrong people.  I need you to point out who I need to steer things away from, though.”

I give a deliberate nod and then pull her into my arms as though I’m comforting her, before I whisper to her pointing out not just the vampires but the other supernaturals that are here tonight, too.

It only takes me a few minutes to discreetly point everyone out and by the time I finish a tall brown-haired man I recognize from Anders’ lair saunters to us and says, “Beth?  We’re on this case, so I need you to tell me everything you know, and then we need to observe while the police question everyone.”

She grins and says, “Ben, this is my friend Josef Kostan, Josef this is A.D.A. Benjamin Talbot.”

Talbot had a blindfold on the last time I saw him.  Therefore, he’s never seen me before, so I pretend that I didn’t help save his ass from Anders, and we shake hands, and then she tells me, “I’m going to go over there and brief him.  I’ll come back when we’re done.”

I give a gentle nod, and she steps away from me to provide him with the allusion of privacy.  I focus on their words and watch Beth move about the room over the course of the next few hours.  Ordinarily, I’d find the show mind-numbingly dull, but my maker joins me just after Beth ambles off with Talbot, and we use this situation like a job interview of sorts.  We observe every move and word out of Beth’s mouth and pay close attention to how people react to her.

Alejandro is still shadowing her, but he keeps a bit of distance while staying close enough to act quickly, if necessary.  He’s grinning at her, though, because she’s respectful and manages to put everyone at ease with little effort, preferring to use a soft touch approach rather than a hard-line angle. 

The basketball player who grabs her ass while she’s passing him quickly finds his cheek stinging from her slap and learns that she also doesn’t take any crap from anyone.  However, her overall demeanor and soft touch command respect from all she interacts with, even the vampires in the room.

When she starts heading in our direction several hours later my maker smiles at me and says, “I think you are correct, and she will be a perfect replacement for St. John.”

I give a crisp nod, and then a grin grows on my face when Beth steps right into my arms and hugs me.  I think it’s, in part, an effort to seek comfort, but it’s also a cover so she can tell me, “Simone will be held and questioned at the station.  Ben says I can’t talk to her until the cops finish their questioning, though, so we should go home and get some rest.  He said he’ll call me if they finish before I show up for my usual shift.”

I use my arms still around her to squeeze her just for a moment and then glance at my maker when he says, “Call me tomorrow and apprise me of the situation once young Beth has had an opportunity to get a better understanding of what’s going on.”

I grin and tell him, “I will.”

I chuckle a minute later when Beth steps out of my arms and into his personal space and kisses his cheek before telling him, “It was an honor to see you again Señor de San Diego.  I hope to see you again soon.”

He gives her a soft smile and tells her, “It was my pleasure, Childe.  Go sleep, and we’ll talk soon.”

She returns his gentle grin with one of her own, and I go to turn, but his next words have me halting in place frozen because he says, “Oh, and Beth?  From now on when we’re around humans who aren’t in the know, you may call me Jorge.  Conversely, when we are around vampires or others who know what we are you may call me Grandsire.  I know it’s not official yet, but I am confident that it will happen soon, and I feel that you have earned the right to speak to me in such a manner.”

She gives a broad grin and tells him, “Thank you,” then she glances around before lowering her voice and whispering, “Grandsire.”

He smiles at her like a proud grandparent, and we grin back before I put my hand on the small of her back and lead her and Alejandro out of the building to the waiting limo.

The ride home is quiet and much tenser than the trip to the dedication.  Beth doesn’t seem to be able to sit still this time around, and she shifts in her seat and fiddles with her purse every minute or so for the entire trip home.

We get back to my house around 12:30 a.m. and Beth would likely lose her way by herself, so because the night has been so long and trying, I escort her to her room.  Then we just stand there for a couple of minutes, neither of us saying a word. 

Beth keeps shifting from foot to foot every few seconds, and her upper lip is perspiring.  If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s nervous, about what I have no idea, but, nevertheless, she seems unwilling to go into her room.  I’m not sure of the reason why, so I stay quiet hoping she’ll voice what she needs from me. 

Instead, a minute or two later she reaches up, kisses me on the cheek, and says, “I had a good time, Josef.”

I raise my eyebrow and quirk my lips at her, so she giggles and says, “Well, right until the dead body showed up.”

I give an unhurried nod and tell her, “I had a good evening, too, before the star basketball player got himself dead and probably stole all of tomorrow’s headlines.  No one will be talking about the 120 million dollars’ worth of state-of-the-art architecture and technologically advanced sports equipment.  They’ll only be talking about the dead professional athlete.”

She giggles again and then says, “Goodnight, my future sire.”

I chuckle lightly and tell her, “Goodnight, my future childe.  Sweet dreams.”

Her face pales almost imperceptibly, and I open my mouth to ask what’s wrong, but she reaches up, kisses me on the cheek again, and then hurries into her room and shuts the door.

How strange.  I shrug, and then I unbutton my jacket, untie my bow tie, and take off my cummerbund while I stroll down the hall to the other wing and then to my office.  It’s still early by vampire standards, and I have a bit of work to do before I hit the freezer in the morning.  I’d like to find out if Vincent or Rider have any leads on Mick’s whereabouts. 

As if he heard my thoughts, Rider pops his head out of his study that’s a few doors down from my office on the opposite side of the hallway and says, “I thought I heard you.”

I grin and release a soft sigh at the comfort just being in the same space as him brings me before I ask, “Any luck finding anything of use in our search for Mick?”

He moves more fully into the hallway and says, “Yes, he took your lessons to heart and has been siphoning off $7,500 from his accounts every other business day, just about every week since the 1970s and putting one withdrawal a week into two different accounts, one in the Caymans and one in Switzerland.  I haven’t figured out where the other third has been going yet, but I’ve drained both accounts that I know about and put the money into a new account I made for you.  I also drained all his other accounts that we already knew about because even though I froze them all last night, he accessed one of them today.  My guess is that he glamoured someone at the bank to give him the money from the account despite it being frozen.  Anyway, all his accounts including the ones that Mr. Griffen made for him are now completely empty, so he only has what was on him when he ran and the $7,500 he took out today, which is low enough to keep the Feds from sticking their noses into things.  I sent all the information I have to my grandsire’s people, and I sent copies of everything to both Vincent and you.”

I furrow my brow and ask, “Where is the account that you made for me?”

He smirks and says, “Venezuela.  There’s no way he’s gonna find it, never mind access it.”

I angle my head to the right and then ask, “And where is this bank that he took money out of?  I assume if he glamoured someone, he was at the bank.”

He shrugs with both shoulders, but nods and says, “Yes, he was near San Diego, and I’ve got him on camera, too, both in the bank and out in the parking lot.  He’s dressing down, jeans and a t-shirt and a short leather jacket.  He’s cut his hair so that it appears more like yours, and he’s driving a late model pickup truck now instead of his Mercedes.  I sent pictures of him and the details of his vehicle that I got off the video to everyone, too, though, the angle was wrong to get the plate, and it was a black and white video, so I only know that it’s a dark colored truck.  I figured out the make and model, though, and I’m keeping an ear to the ground to see if he sold his Mercedes to make some quick under the table money because it’s a classic, so he’d easily get a decent price for it even in a rushed deal.”

I smile despite the topic and tell him, “Excellent work, Rider, I assume by your presence in your old rooms that you plan to take me up on my offer of a place to live?”

He gives me a broad grin and holds his hands out like the plates of a scale.  He raises one hand and lowers the other and then reverses them while he says, “Live by myself in a ratty old apartment that no matter how much Febreze I use smells of old urine and stale cigarettes while missing my sire or live here in style with my maker right across the hall, hmm, hard choice.  So, yes, I decided to take you up on your more than generous offer.  Besides, I’m over my ‘I need privacy stage’ that I went through the last couple of years.  I realize now that not being close to you bothers me more than having to share space with someone, or, now, I guess two someone’s because my new blood-sister to-be has moved in.”

I reach out and pat his shoulder and tell him, “Good, I missed you, too.  As you said, Beth is living here now, too, and she’s the youngest, so she comes first for me just as you did when you were the youngest, so don’t bother her or do anything to upset her, or I’ll ask you to move back to your smelly apartment.”

He tips his head towards me and says, “No worries, Josef, I know how it works.  I wouldn’t do anything to upset her simply because it would upset _you_ , and I still want to please you in all that I do.  Besides, I like Ms. Turner, so I’ll do my best to stay on her good side, and, hey, Vincent said you’re naming her the Area Two Investigator.  Maybe my being here will be useful to her in her capacity as the area investigator, too.  She won’t necessarily need to go through you to get me to look things up for her, so if you don’t object, I’ll make my services readily available to her, and I’ll let her know that the next time I see her.”

I incline my head again and tell him, “That would be excellent.  I’m considering giving her the gatehouse as an office for the Area Two Investigator position.  If you two end up working together often, you might want to consider using one of the rooms there as an office instead of your private study in this house.”

He grins again and says, “I’ll consider it, but I’m not sure about the security on a building that has direct on road access for the more sensitive stuff I do for you and will probably be doing for Ms. Turner.  If you get me the security details for the gatehouse, I’ll look them over and see if they meet my requirements and if not, I’ll see if I can come up with a security plan that will do what I need it to do.”

I shift my weight from one foot to the other and tell him, “I’ll have it sent to your secure account tomorrow.  Make up your plan, and we’ll talk later because Beth will want tight security, too, if she’s going to have files on supernatural cases.”

He gives me a soft smile and a slow nod, so I tell him, “I’ll let you get back to your hunt for Mick.  Let me know if you find anything.”

He grins and says, “I will and thank you for letting me come back so early.  I missed feeling you so close by.”

I smile and move into his personal space.  I reach up and stroke his cheek, which causes him to tilt his head into the touch.  Our bond hums between us before I drop my tie and cummerbund to the floor and use both hands to cup his cheeks and pull his forehead to my lips.  I kiss his brow and then tell him, “I missed you too, Childe.”

I stroke his cheek, and he gives a gentle nod as much as my hands still on his cheeks will allow and grins before he reluctantly pulls away and goes back into his office.

If I didn’t feel a sense of urgency to check my email and make sure that no one has any pressing news about Mick, I’d take the time to properly welcome Rider home.

I’ll have to make it up to him later.  I grin while focusing on the connection between us that has gotten stronger since I touched him, and then I pick up the tie and cummerbund off the floor and enter my own office. 

I’m also smiling because Rider is home and Beth has agreed to become my childe, and both are currently under my roof.  The only thing that would make all this better is if Mick weren’t on the run, but I still think that despite his running this really is the best possible outcome.  I mean it’d be better for everyone involved if Mick had simply accepted his fate and allowed Celeste to tie him to her, but for Mick, this is his one chance at freedom. 

I’ve seen enough in my long life to know that his freedom will be short-lived, so I hope he’s enjoying what’s left of it.  Either way, Rider and Beth are both here where I can feel them close by and simultaneously keep them safe, and, for now, that’s good enough.

I shrug off my jacket and hang it and my tie and cummerbund on the back of my desk chair before unbuttoning the first three buttons of my tuxedo shirt and sitting down, and then I set about reading everything Rider, Vincent, and Celeste have sent me while Beth and I were at the dedication.


	7. Respect

****

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Chapter 007**

**Respect**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Friday, February 01, 2008; 3:30 a.m. PST**

**Josef’s Home, Beverly House, Beverly Hills, California**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

The other night when I was planning to be moving around the house, I wore a t-shirt out of respect for the fact that Beth is now living in the main house and might not be as comfortable as Rider and I am with casual nudity or at least casual partial nudity.  However, tonight I’m staying in my bedroom, so I took off the scratchy t-shirt and am only wearing my sleep pants. 

I’m propped up in my rarely slept in bed reading my area vampires’ claims against other vampires and supernaturals while doing my best not to fall asleep because most of the complaints are petty and stupid.  I release a heavy breath and flip to the next page when screaming interrupts my efforts.  In the time it takes Beth’s heart to beat once, I’m out of my bed, down the hallway, and inside her bedroom. 

Despite the pulled blinds and there being no light in the room, I can see her perfectly, lying in her bed tossing and turning and fighting with her covers screaming, “Don’t leave me.  Don’t leave!  Stay with me!”

I’m not the only one who came running.  Rider arrives a second after I do.  I glance at him and tell him, “Thank you for acting so quickly, but I’ll take care of her.  You go back to whatever you were doing.”

He frowns but says, “If either of you needs anything, just holler.”

I nod, and he inclines his head before he then strides out of her room at a human pace.  My words took less than a second, so I move closer to Beth’s bedside while she continues to beg someone, “Please don’t leave me!  Don’t leave!  Stay with me!  Please, stay!”

Two people in Beth’s life have ‘left’ her in recent times.  Despite our certainty that Mick is going to be wishing for death by the time he’s caught, I sincerely doubt she’s screaming at Mick to stay.  There is a certain amount of terror laced into her voice that can only come from watching someone you care about die a violent death.  Therefore, I don’t need to be a genius to guess that the mystery person that she so desperately wants to stay is her deceased boyfriend that she and Mick couldn’t save almost exactly a month ago.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I brush her hair from her sweaty face and say, “Beth, wake up.  It’s just a dream.”

She keeps twisting and turning in her sleep and begging him to stay with her, so I grab her shoulder and shake her a bit, which causes her to scream a wordless, but ear piercing, yell and sit up in bed clutching her chest as if she’s in pain.

I’m pretty sure she doesn’t yet realize that I’m here so in a soft voice I ask, “Beth, are you okay?”

Silly question, I know, but I can’t bring myself to tell her that everything is okay.  Joshua Lindsey is dead, and, in Beth’s opinion, that means nothing is okay.

Her head turns sharply to look at me, and her eyes are wide enough that I can see the whites of her eyes all the way around her irises despite the darkness of the room.

It takes a minute for her eyes to finally focus on me but when they do her lip begins to tremble, so I move so that I’m sitting against her headboard and then open my arms and tell her, “Come here, Blondie.”

The word ‘come’ barely leaves my mouth before she flings herself into my arms.  Wrapping my arms around her, I kiss the top of her head and tell her, “Shh, you’re safe.”

She rubs at her watery eyes with one hand and sniffles into my chest before saying, “He’s dead.”

I give a small nod and exhale deeply before telling her, “If you’re referring to your boyfriend, then yes, Mr. Lindsey is dead.”

Pulling away a little, she glances up at me and says, “Please call him Josh.  I know you didn’t know him, but since he died everyone is so formal when they talk about him, even people who knew him.”

I lean down and kiss the top of her head before telling her, “Josh then.”

After she snuggles back into my chest, she says, “Thank you.”

Pausing, she sniffles again before asking, “Did I wake you?”

With a shake my head, and after chuckling lightly, I tell her, “I’m a vampire, Beth.  We tend to be awake at night, living by moonlight, and asleep during the day.”

Giggling despite her earlier tears, she says, “Duh, I should have known that.  Sorry.”

I shake my head again and tighten my arms around her small frame before telling her, “You have no reason to apologize.”

Her long exhale ghosts over my bare chest before she shifts in my arms and after rubbing her face against my chest she says, “I may not have woken you, but I definitely disturbed you.”

I neither confirm nor deny that statement and instead ask her, “Do you want to talk about your dream?”

When she screamed, I didn’t stop to throw my t-shirt back on.  I just ran to her side, so now when she snuggles in deeper, it’s an effort on my part to focus on her words instead of the warm puffs of her breaths blasting across my cool, bare chest. 

With a voice that trembles somewhat, she says, “It was just me reliving Josh’s murder.  I think seeing Dominic dead just brought back memories.  I mean I know the deaths were different.  Huerta shot Josh three times, severing his carotid and femoral arteries before he died on a dirt road in the middle of Griffith Park.  Dominic, on the other hand, died indoors, in a tub of water, and it might even be an accidental death.  It was not the bloody, dusty mess that Josh’s death was.”

She pauses and then squeezes my ribcage tighter and in a soft voice with a slight tremor admits, “There was so much blood when Josh was shot, and afterward I felt like I couldn’t get his blood off my hands for weeks.  I’d scrub my hands a couple of times a day until they were nearly raw I scrubbed so hard, but the blood wouldn’t come off.  It’s only been in the last week or so that the sensation of bloodied hands has lessened some.  Sometimes I can still feel the tackiness of it drying on my skin from after he died, but I think that part of my trauma has mostly been overcome.”

After a short pause, she releases a heavy sigh and tells me, “I haven’t had nightmares for almost a week now, too.  I thought they were gone for good, but Dominic’s only the second dead body I’ve been up close and personal with since Josh died, so I think that’s why the nightmare happened tonight.”

She shifts her face and gazes at me while still resting her cheek on my shoulder and says, “I really am sorry I disturbed whatever you were doing.”

Despite the topic of our conversation her warm breath on my bare skin is wreaking havoc on my libido.  Still, I chuckle, and after shifting a little trying to make my quickly tightening sleep pants more comfortable, I tell her, “I was reading complaints made by my vampires against other vampires and supernaturals.  Part of my duties as sheriff is mediating between aggrieved parties within the supernatural community and trying to sort out a resolution that is agreeable to all parties involved.  I hold office hours to settle disputes the first and third Tuesday of every month.  With everything that happened this past week I put off reading the complaints that I’ll be dealing with this coming Tuesday, so I was just catching up on that reading.  Most of the time I get bored and have to get up and do something else anyway because my vampires are much pettier and more childish than I hope I am.”

With a short giggle, she traces an utterly distracting design with the tip of her finger on the skin of my chest, and then says, “You have your obstinate moments Josef, but I would never call you petty or childish.”

I grin at that and tell her, “Thank you.”

She nods, her hair rubbing along my shoulder and I can feel her lips form a smile against my chest before she says, “You’re welcome, Josef.”

Pausing, she lifts her head to glance at the clock on the bedside table and then she smiles faintly and asks, “So, technically it’s Friday, one day closer to my turning.  Have you decided when you’re going to turn me?

Shaking my head, I tell her, “We need to solve Dominic’s death first.  There are way too many vampires involved in this shit storm, so we need to figure out what happened and spin it to avoid the humans asking the wrong questions about the wrong people.”

She squeezes her arms around me and then relaxes her hold, so I tell her, “Unless it takes more than our allotted days, you need to stay human long enough to solve this case.  If necessary, I might even be able to convince my maker to give us an extension.  Your solve rate and the speed with which you tend to solve your cases leads me to believe an extension won’t be necessary, but I’ll mention it when I speak to Jorge later today to prepare him for the possibility.”

After shifting in my arms she asks, “Do you think he’d be willing to grant us an extension?  He doesn’t seem the type to me.”

Laugher bursts out of me at that epic understatement before I tell her, “Oh if it’s in the best interest of the community, he’ll grant an extension.  He’ll hate every second of it, but he’ll allow it if he thinks you have the best chance of keeping the humans from discovering us before our intended revelation.”

She pulls away somewhat and observes me for a couple of seconds before asking, “Um, when _do_ you plan to reveal yourselves?  You and my future grandsire have both said later this year, and I think one of you mentioned the summertime, but has an actual date been chosen yet?”

I tighten my hold on her and say, “Yes.  If all goes according to plan, we’ll hold multiple press conferences after sunset on Friday, May 23rd.  The 111th anniversary of the first publication of Bram Stoker’s Dracula is on the 26th, so we thought that weekend would be appropriate.  It’s also Memorial Day Weekend here in the US, so people will have the whole long-weekend to calm themselves before going into work the following Tuesday.  We’re banking on winning over the Americans and then their acceptance influencing other countries to accept us as well.”

She doesn’t respond so I shrug and tell her, “Anyway, the most respectable vampires from each state and country will hold a press conference an hour after sunset in their respective time-zones starting with the Eastern Time zone and put their names and faces out there to help the cause.  I will, of course, be one of those vampires.  Actually, all sheriffs and royals will be the public faces of the community.  You, as my childe, will likely be outed fairly quickly, but we’ll discuss the finer details of that closer to the revelation.”

She doesn’t respond verbally and her finger, which has been tracing designs on my bare chest brushes over my nipple.  I groan and shift a little again which causes her to glance at me from her place with her cheek pressed against my shoulder.  She smirks and asks, “Something wrong, Josef?”

With a chuckle, I tell her, “Not wrong per say, but if you keep playing with fire this evening is going to have a whole different ending, and you won’t be getting much more sleep tonight.  Given your recent losses, I think it might be wise to hold off on starting any sort of physical relationship until you’ve been able to properly grieve not just for Josh but for the loss of your relationship with Mick as well.”

She shakes her head, and even though she speaks into my chest, I can hear her pout loud and clear when she says, “I’m tired of being sad Josef.  I just want to forget.”

Her breath is hot against my cold skin to the point that it’s beginning to be a little difficult to think straight.  To clear the haze in my mind I pull her face off my chest and lean down a little, so I can see her eyes, or more specifically so _she_ can see _mine,_ in the dark and tell her, “Not tonight Beth.  You need to heal.”

She frowns, shakes her head, and says, “But—”

I interrupt her and shake my head at _her_ while I say, “You can’t understand the complexities of a maker/childe relationship just yet but suffice it to say it’s an eternal relationship.  The good ones flourish and prosper for eternity, and that’s what I want with you.  I do not want to be your rebound guy, and while I have no problem offering you comfort whenever you need it, I care more for your physical, emotional, _and_ mental well-being than I do about getting off in this moment.  As your future maker, I don’t think it would be in either of our best interest to go there tonight.”

She opens her mouth again, so I place my finger on her lips and tell her, “I’m saying no for tonight, not forever, maybe not even for two days from now, but for tonight the answer is no.  I need you to respect that just as you would expect me to respect the word no from any woman, you included.  I need you to show me the same respect, can you do that for me, Beth?”

Her mouth closes with an audible snap, and she slowly nods and then after a minute or so of silence she says, “I’m sorry, Josef, that wasn't fair of me.”

I squeeze her a touch and say, “Apology accepted, but I think it’s just one more clue that it’s a bad idea tonight because I know you well enough to know that if you were thinking clearly without guilt and grief coloring your view, you wouldn’t have pressed me when I said no.”

She snuggles into my chest and effectively buries her face back into my chest.  I can feel the heat of her blush rising in her cheeks against my shoulder, so I just hold her and let her hide her embarrassment to the best of her ability.

Soon after, her breathing evens out, and she snores every now and then, so I shift us so that we’re laying down and continue to hold her until I need to go to rest in my freezer.

I’m awoken a few hours later by my internal warning system alerting me of the sun’s imminent rising.  If I have to guess, I’d say the sun will be breaching the horizon in about half an hour.  I turn my head a tad and glance at the clock on the table beside the bed.  It’s 6:19 a.m. and my belief is correct because sunrise is at 6:50 this morning.

Beth drew the curtains in the bedroom before going to bed, and there is a special film treatment on every window in the house so that the sunlight won’t affect me, so I just stay snuggled up with Beth in my arms.

It’s been almost 53 years, April 28, 1955, to be specific, since I last lay in a bed with a human just holding them while they slept.  Oh, I’ve fucked probably thousands of human women since then, some of them in beds, but holding them while they slept?  Only Sarah and now Beth have ever had that privilege while still human.  Everyone else either left before sleeping became an issue or _I_ left once they fell asleep. 

Laying here holding Beth while she’s so vulnerable is a unique experience for me.  She’s warm in ways I honestly can’t remember having been myself it was that long ago.  Her chest rises and falls with every precious breath and every couple of minutes her arms tighten around me before loosening back to their previous hold.

I could kill her without even trying, especially while she’s asleep and she is fully aware of that fact, and yet she’s sleeping in the arms of a known killer like it’s the safest place for her to be.  That’s pretty accurate because the last thing I want is for her to die permanently.  However, she seems to be sleeping better with my arms and hands holding her tightly than she did while in her bed alone. 

These hands have killed hundreds of thousands of humans in my long life, and she’s finding comfort from their tight hold.  These hands that have inflicted immeasurable pain and caused nightmares for thousands are so far as I can tell keeping _her_ nightmares away for the night. 

I rest my chin on top of her head and breathe in her unique scent.  It’s always smelled somewhat off to me like someone altered it, but I’ve never encountered that before, so I don’t know what it means.  You can’t change scents to my knowledge, cover them up, sure, but alter them, not in my experience.  Still, the smell of her lavender and vanilla bathing products hardly manages to cover up the underlying aroma of the forest after a spring rain, and it brings me comfort and the long almost forgotten memories of my siblings laughing and running while we played in the woods beside our village. 

I can remember my brothers’ and sisters’ names, but their faces are harder to remember.  I was only 12 and human when I last saw them, so I hadn’t received eidetic memory by becoming a vampire yet. 

Beth’s scent in my nose makes their fuzzy faces just a little bit clearer, and I struggle to push away the cobwebs from my human memories and sharpen up the images.

I’m brought out of my memories and my marginally successful attempt at remembering forgotten details about my brothers and sisters 40 minutes later, when the alarm goes off and Beth, barely awake, reaches over me and slaps at the clock.  It turns itself off for the time being, and she snuggles deeper into my arms. 

After kissing the top of her head, I ask, “Good morning sleepy head.  Did you have better dreams the second go around?”

Her silky tresses rub against my chest when she shrugs, and then she glances at me through the curtain of her messy hair and says, “Yes, I don’t remember dreaming while you were holding me.”

I smile before I tell her, “Good, I didn’t think you had any bad dreams, but I thought it best to double check.  I want you to let me know if you continue to have trouble sleeping.”

She lifts her head from its resting place on my shoulder and even though I’m sure her human eyes are having difficulty seeing me in the low light her eyes still focus on mine before she asks, “Do vampires dream?”

A chuckle rumbles in my chest before I tell her something Mick might prefer she not know, “I’ve been known to dream on occasion, usually of my human family back before my father died, and I know Mick has a recurring dream.  In the dream, he explains himself to a blonde reporter and tells her all about vampires in an exclusive interview.”

Her head pops off my chest, and it takes her a minute to focus on my face but when she does her brow furrows, and she frowns before asking, “Seriously?”

I wiggle my eyebrows and tell her, “Seriously.  It began around the time you joined the school paper in high school, and to my knowledge, it persisted at least until you discovered our secret.  He hasn’t mentioned having it since shortly after you saved his life and caught him feeding to heal his wounds, but I know he had it every couple of days before he re-met you at the Design Center Fountain, and then after that, he had it every day until you two began hunting Pollock.”

Her eyes droop, but I imagine if she were more awake they’d be wide open at that news.  She shakes her head somewhat and says, “Mick has deep-seated issues.  It’s not just me who sees that, right?”

I just blink a few times and then take in a deep, heavy breath before telling her, “He does have incredibly deep-seated issues.  I, um, I don’t have enough time right now to tell you his whole story before you need to get up and go to work, but he was a medic in the Second World War, and it messed with him.  His whole unit except his best friend died in a patrol gone terribly wrong.  I just found out recently that for a while he thought his best friend had died, too, and that messes with your head, even after you discover the person is alive.  Throw in that he fell in love with his best friend’s wife and had an affair with her while they thought the friend was dead and it completely warped him.”

I tighten my arms around her a touch and say, “By the time he met Coraline he had had an unbelievably long string of one-night stands, and he was immediately drawn to her, and _she_ knew that.  He loved her, though, or at least the her that she let him see.”

Beth nods causing her silken hair to run along my bare shoulder before I let go of a harsh breath and tell her, “I was at the party when they first met, and, as I told you last night, I felt the pull to him.  Unfortunately, I was so focused on my upcoming sabbatical and getting out of L.A. that I didn’t really recognize the feeling for what it was, so I flew to New York shortly afterward.  Therefore, I didn’t witness much of their courting, but I’ve heard enough from both Mick and others who were there to know that Coraline played him like a fiddle.”

I give a gentle shake of my head and then say, “Don’t get me wrong, I think she loved and still loves him.  However, I don’t think she knows how to love someone in a healthy way.  Anyway, she pulled his strings, and he thought it was a forever kind of love and clearly so did she.”

She shifts in my arms but doesn’t verbally respond, so after tightening my hold on her even more, I tell her, “How she went about turning him and telling him she was a vampire was obviously the wrong way to do it.  I think that he would have reacted much more favorably if she had sat him down before they got married and explained everything much like he did with you after you discovered our secret.  In fact, he’d probably still be a vampire, only willingly, and would still be happily married to her, or at least as happy as a woman who enjoys toying with men would allow her husband to be.”

Shifting somewhat with Beth in my arms, I pause for a moment and then say, “The point is her being a vampire and her turning him without his knowledge or consent would not have been the cause of their break up, and I think they would have been as happy as they could be for a time.  But she turned him in the middle of lovemaking without warning him, and when he woke, it was with a thirst no amount of water could quench.”

She seems to sense my desire not to tell her this next part, but I did promise, so after she tightens her arm around me, offering comfort in her own way, I tell her, “Remember, I wasn’t here yet, but by Mick’s own account he would starve himself until his body knew it was feed or die time.  Then after days of not feeding, he’d go on a rampage and kill whole slews of people.  He was probably even more prolific than Pollack and Mineo combined.  Actually, I know he was.  He didn’t kill every day, but for just about two and a half years every three or four days his body would force him to hunt, and he’d just randomly attack people and drain a whole string of strangers before denying himself all over again and restarting the cycle.”

She’s quiet, but she squeezes me a little, so I tell her, “I was despondent right after Sarah didn’t wake.  I didn’t break out of my depression until about a month later when I got a call from Alistair Rodriguez, the King of California, asking me to come back to his state and figure out who was slaughtering humans left and right in my old area.  The vampire standing in for me as sheriff while I took the much-needed break was having no luck, and he didn’t know much, but he knew that they needed help.  All they did know for sure was that whoever was responsible was a vampire and not hiding his murders from the humans.”

I shift Beth in my arms slightly and then tell her, “I needed to get out of New York and move on with my life, so I arranged for nurses to tend to Sarah around the clock and then I flew back here.  Once I arrived, it took me less than 72-hours to notice a pattern, so I easily followed the trail of bodies back to Mick and Coraline.  When I realized what she had done, I told him in no uncertain terms that if he fed on a regular basis, he would not have to kill to feed.  She never told him that, so he had no clue.”

Beth huffs and says with a bit of bite in her voice, “Just another reason to hate the bitch.  She forced him to become a killer simply by leaving essential information out.”

I run my hand through her hair before saying, “You’re absolutely correct.  Mick probably wouldn’t have killed anyone if she’d done things properly and certainly not the number of deaths he wound up causing in those first almost two and a half years.”

She traces a figure eight on my chest over and over, so I squeeze her gently and then relax my hold before saying, “When I reported the issue to the king, he first asked me if I was coming back to work for him.  When I told him that I was ready to resume my position, he asked me if I’d be willing to teach Mick, and when I agreed, Mick promised to try to learn from me.”

I exhale deeply, shift my hold on her again, and lean down kissing the top of her head before saying, “And it worked, too.  Mick stopped killing humans without provocation, and we quickly became best friends.  I was an active sheriff for almost 5,000 years straight, having served under six different Royals in that time, and with only short breaks in between jobs.  Between August of 1952 and early June of 1955, I took a break from being sheriff of Area Two, but I resumed my duties here about a week after I got back to L.A. because the vampire standing in for me decided he’d had enough of being in charge and needed a break too.”

She lifts her head from my shoulder where it was resting and quirks an eyebrow at me before asking, “He was acting sheriff for just under three years, and _he_ needed a break?  How many breaks have _you_ taken in 5,000 years?”

I chuckle and tell her, “Some people just aren’t built to be a sheriff and he is one of them.  As for how many breaks I’ve taken, I think in five millennia I’ve taken a grand total of 100 years off from being a Sheriff.  Usually, I plan to take a decade off and then three or four years into my sabbatical I end up resuming my duties because not being a sheriff is terribly boring to me.  Of course, I do take vacations and have taken several centuries worth of vacation time, but during my vacations, I was still the sheriff and mostly kept up-to-date about what was going on in my area even while I was away.  The century of time off was different because I officially named someone else as the temporary sheriff, or my king did anyway.  Like I said, some vampires aren’t meant to be sheriff.  You’re either a sheriff for centuries, or millennia in my case, or you last no more than a decade before you and your royal decide someone else needs to be in charge.”

She grins and says, “I figured if you’ve been a sheriff for 5,000 years, that it must suit you.”

A bark of laughter escapes me at that understatement, and then I tell her, “It really does.  Anyway, back to Mick.  Between mid-1955 and early 1985, Mick fed on freshies daily and things were good, incredible even.  He didn’t starve himself, so I don’t think he killed a single human in that entire time.  Then one fateful night in mid-January of 1985 a young widow showed up on his doorstep.  Her daughter was missing, and he knew the moment he stepped into your bedroom that Coraline had taken you.  The thought of a child turning because of him sickened him, so he tracked her down and killed her, or as you know tried to anyway.  Then, once you were safe, he stopped feeding on freshies and started only feeding on bags of dead blood.  He won’t even drink donated blood from living people, only blood from corpses, which is disgusting in most cases.”

I release a gust of air and brush my hand over her bare arm and then tell her, “I never could get him to explain why he refused to drink fresh after he saved you.  Occasionally, I’d sneak a few drops of fresh blood into whatever he was drinking, and he’d always smell it before he got any into him, and he’d put the glass aside and not drink from it.  That both reassured me that he still had proper vampire senses but concerned me because vampires can’t go on forever drinking dead blood.  Anyway, I’m sure his unwillingness to drink fresh blood has something to do with his self-image and the fact that he sees himself and the rest of us as monsters, but he’s refused to explain himself the few times I’ve asked.”

She squeezes me a little, so I say, “So, yes, he has issues, but only some of them are caused by the circumstances surrounding his being a vampire.  Some of them like the reason Coraline was able to draw him into her web in the first place and the fact that he could never completely cut her loose stem from other traumas that have nothing to do with how Coraline turned him.  Don’t get me wrong, betrayal like that on your wedding night by the woman you love would fuck with the strongest of psyches, but it’s only one source of his problems.”

She moves her head up and down causing her hair to slide across my bare shoulder again, which is entirely distracting.  I force myself to focus and tell her, “I will require you to feed on freshies.  A snack from a bag or bottle, be it human or synthetic, every now and then is okay but nothing resembling a habit.  Know that the few times you do drink bottled, I will encourage you to avoid dead blood because that sustains us even less than fresh bottled blood.”

She squeezes me in response, so I tell her, “However, not feeding live daily makes it harder to control your urges _and_ your emotions.  The risk is too great, especially for a newborn, and with the fact that we’ll be revealing ourselves soon, public scrutiny will be deep and searching, so we need to avoid accidents as much as possible.  The Cleaners should have no problem continuing to erase the occasional mistake, but I’d prefer to avoid _you_ accidentally killing someone.  You’re not built for killing Beth, and I’d rather keep from turning you into a cold-blooded killer.”

She snuggles in closer and says, “Thank you for that, and thank you for telling me about Mick.  I don’t want to hurt anyone, but if I understand correctly we, or you, can feed without killing, yes?”

With a stroke of my hand along her side, I rest my hand over hers on my chest and tell her, “Yes.”

She smiles at me and finishes by saying, “Then I want to learn how to live feed without hurting anyone.”

After kissing the top of her head, I tell her, “Then that is what I will teach you.”

She lifts her head off my shoulder and looks at me before she asks, “What’s synthetic?  I didn’t think it had been accomplished yet.”

Now, it’s my turn to trace figure eights on her bare shoulder before telling her, “Vampires have recently, as in the last three months, managed to create synthetic blood that can sustain us for a while.  Yakonomo Corporation, the company who will begin producing and bottling synthetic blood for vampire consumption, will be announcing the successful creation of synthetic blood on Wednesday of next week.  Anyway, because I am part owner of the company with a few other key members of my Grandsire’s Bloodline I know that the trials have shown successful use in blood transfusions for humans, and it will curb a vampire’s need to live feed for a short while.  We plan to lead humans to believe that we can survive on synthetic alone.  However, it’s not true, especially for newborns.  They need real, preferably fresh, blood fairly often.”

She lifts her head once more to gaze at me, causing her silky hair to slide over my bare shoulder again before she says, “Oh, okay.  Good to know.”

The last word crosses her lips about half a second before her alarm goes off again, so I reach over and turn it off and tell her, “Time to get up.  You have damage control to work on.”

She groans but sits up, and after wiping the sleep from her eyes, she says, “Stupid Simone.  If she didn’t kill Dominic, then she’s not very bright because she was soaking wet, which means she at least tried to get him out of the tub instead of calling for help.”

I chuckle despite the topic at hand before I tell her, “I’m beginning to question her intelligence for myself, and will likely sever ties with her soon, but first we need to figure out who, if anyone, killed Dominic and steer the cops away from all of the vampires in attendance.”

She shrugs one elegant shoulder, so I sit up, too, and tell her, “I’ll have my car bring you to the Criminal Courts Building, and the driver will stay there and be at your disposal all day in case you need to go anywhere.  I imagine you’ll want to talk to Emma and Jackson, so I’ll call them and warn them that you’re coming and that you’re to be my childe as soon as we clean up this mess.  If they don’t cooperate, call me, and I’ll command them as their sheriff to be as helpful as they can be.  While it won’t hold the same weight as a command from a maker, it will convince them that I’m serious and that they need to take you just as seriously.”

She doesn’t respond and instead stretches before climbing over me and getting out of bed.  I grab her hand when she passes me and tell her, “I want Alejandro to go with you like he did yesterday.  He doesn’t leave your side unless you go into the bathroom and you only go in there after he clears it.”

She turns and stares at me, and with a frown on her face she shakes her head, squeezes my hand, and says, “Josef, do you really think that’s necessary?  Do you really think someone is going to try to kidnap me from the Los Angeles Criminal Courts Building?”

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I turn and face her.  Still holding her hand, I pull her into the ‘V’ between my legs and then let go of her hand and place my hands on her hips before I gaze up at her and say, “Beth, I don’t know that _anyone_ is going to try anything.  However, I wouldn’t be doing my best to protect you if I leave it to chance.  Quite frankly, you and your safety are worth too much to me for me to leave anything to chance.”

She frowns but doesn’t argue, so I incline my head and tell her, “If you care about your own safety at all, I need you to let me do my job as your future maker.  Let me do everything in my power to keep you safe so that we can both survive to see another day and if I’m very good at my mission, spend centuries and eventually millennia together.”

She leans down and kisses my cheek and says, “Okay, Josef, I won’t argue or be difficult.”

I smile and tell her, “Thank you, Childe.”

She shakes her head and says, “No, thank _you_ , Josef.  I realize I’m being far more trouble than I’m worth, and you’re making no complaints and doing everything you can to keep me safe.  I know I thanked you for helping Mick save me from Anders and for being willing to turn me, but I haven’t said thank you for protecting me from Mick, so thank you.”

She pauses and then with furrowed brow asks, “God, how messed up is it that you need to protect me from Mick?  I mean, it’s _Mick_.  He wouldn’t hurt me.”

I pull on her hips and move her so that she’s sitting on my knee.  Using my hand, I turn her chin and gaze into her watery eyes before telling her, “Beth, I know this is difficult for you in multiple ways, but if Mick kidnaps you, a blood-hunt will be called on both of you.  _You_ won’t get a chance to state your case either because you’re human.  They would capture him and try him publicly, but they would kill you, and he wouldn’t even know it until it was too late.  While he wouldn’t actively try to hurt you and I fully believe he thinks he’s protecting you, he’s not protecting you at all.  He’s putting you in danger.  He’s just making matters worse, and deep down he knows that, but he’s so blinded by his belief that we’re monsters that he can only focus on you not becoming one of us.”

She’s frowning, and I can smell the salt of her unshed tears, so I stroke her cheek with one hand and tell her, “Mick’s not thinking clearly.  If he were, he wouldn’t have run, and he would do whatever possible to keep you safe, but his words to me Wednesday night before you came home show me that he’s not even remotely thinking clearly.  He said it himself when he asked me if I really thought he was going to stand by and let me destroy your life.  I tried to explain that I wasn’t destroying it but rather saving it and that if you don’t turn, you will die and _that would_ _definitely_ destroy your life.  However, he blew my words off, and I don’t think Mick can see the stark difference between dead and undead right now.  At the very least he’s considering dead to be the better prospect when, in reality, it’s the worse choice.”

She sniffles and reaches up and wipes a tear away while I use my thumb to dry the other cheek of her tears before I say, “I know you love him and I know you trust him, but right now, he’s a threat to you.  What’s worse, he’s still in the wind and other than a brief stop at a bank in San Diego we don’t know where he is or who he might have enlisted to help him carry out any plans he might have in the works.  I’ve asked my maker to alert me to anything his people discover during their investigation, and I have Rider doing his own investigation into Mick’s cyber trail, but that means that until he’s caught and we know everything that Mick has put in place, you need to let Alejandro be your shadow.  At least until I’m certain Mick and anyone working for him is no longer a threat to you.”

She still has tears running down her cheeks, so I reach up and wipe the tears off her face with my thumbs again before kissing the side of her head and telling her, “I’m sorry that Mick is essentially the enemy right now.  I know in your head and heart he’s your guardian angel, but for the immediate future, _he’s_ the threat.  I wish I could talk some sense into him, but I’m fairly sure it’s going to take a century, at least, of him and Celeste butting heads before he might begin to see himself and other vampires clearly.”

She quirks an eyebrow and asks, “He’s right, though, not all vampires are like you and him.  They kill Willy Nilly, or am I wrong?”

Frowning somewhat, I tell her, “You’re right.  There are a lot of vampires that don’t value human life.  I’d even go so far as to say that _I_ don’t value human life the same way Mick does, but what he, and perhaps you, aren’t realizing is that humans aren’t these pure, saintly creatures.  You’ve got good and decent ones, and you’ve got evil ones, and then you’ve got the overwhelming majority somewhere in the middle.  I’d argue that the same is true of vampires.  The only difference is that the old vamps like Jorge, Celeste, and me come from more violent times so the standards of living and dying were different and some of us have a tough time shifting to the more modern ways of dealing with our disputes.  That’s especially true because it’s true of all the old vampires and we’re the ones that control things, so the community still does things the old ways because why fix something that still works.”

My chestnut eyes meet her cobalt ones, and then I tell her a closely guarded secret, “Despite what others, including Mick, think, I don’t go around killing indiscriminately.  I’d even say that most vampires don’t do that, but we, for the most part, realize that humans are just as capable of evil as vampires are.  Hitler and his army of SS officers, except for one specific pack of weres, were human.  Stalin and Saddam Hussein were human, too.  The horrors of Sarajevo and more recently in places like the Sudan were all perpetrated by humans.”

She doesn’t say anything, so I incline my head at her and say, “Most of the creatures that commit large-scale evil in this world are human, not supernatural.  Mick seemingly forgets that of the four or five horrible crimes he’s attempting to solve at any given time, three, sometimes four, of them were committed not by vampires but by humans.”

Her eyes widen at that, so I say, “It’s true, there have even been occasions when all of his cases had human criminals behind them.  I _will_ admit that there is almost always a vampire or other supernatural in my area that’s committing a crime of some sort.  However, most of his cases involve human monsters, not supernatural ones.”

She tilts her head to the side and just stares at me for a minute.  I give her the time to absorb what I just said and then she nods slowly and tells me, “I understand what you’re saying Josef, I really do, and I get that Vampires aren’t the only monsters in the world.  What I don’t understand, is if you don’t value human life the same way Mick does then why are you working so hard to keep me safe?  You don’t owe me anything, and yet you’re going out of your way to make sure I live to see another day.  What makes me matter when the rest don’t seem to matter to you at all?”

I smile gently before trying my best to explain something that’s exceedingly difficult to put into words, “Why do humans fall in love, like what makes one human fall in love with person B instead of person C?  Certain people just mesh and complement each other better than others.  The same is true for vampires.  It’s just slightly more pronounced with us.  In my long life, I’ve been something resembling friends with somewhere between 1,000 and 1,200 humans, but most of those friendships were superficial, and many of them didn’t know what I am.”

I shrug and tell her, “I’ve liked, respected, and trusted about five dozen of those thousand humans enough to offer immortality to them.  I’ll be honest, that estimation is probably a little on the low side compared to the reality of it, but it’s still barely a fraction of the humans I’ve encountered in my long life.”

With a tiny shake my head, I say, “I got along with each of them better than I get along with most.  I knew almost immediately that I could spend forever knowing them and not end up hating them at some point.  I know in my soul that I won’t hate you either and because the number is so low compared to the number of humans I’ve met in approximately 5,408 years, I’ve learned to value those who are good matches with me.  I value them, and I almost always offer to turn them.  Not all of them agree, not even most agree, in fact out of more than 60 humans whom I’ve offered to turn I only turned 14 of them, well, 15 if you count Mick.  The point is, I almost always offer.”

She tilts her head to the other side but she’s got a soft smile on her face, so I kiss her forehead and then say, “You are one of those humans, and the only reason I hadn’t offered already is that I knew it would destroy my relationship with Mick and possibly cost him his life.  However, as I said the other night, I was slowly getting to the point that I would have gone over his head or otherwise schemed a way to get you turned.  I wasn’t particularly picky about who had to be your maker.  I just knew you are meant to be eternal.”

Her eyes widen at that, so I take her hand and squeeze it gently before then telling her, “Don’t misunderstand me, in my mind, the ideal situation was always _me_ being your sire, in part because I would have felt a hole where our bond is if Mick had turned you.  However, I knew deep down that the important thing was making sure that if you were willing, you would last for all of eternity.  And for the record, I’ve never felt the pull and had the person refuse my offer.  The only ones who ever turned me down were humans I didn’t feel the pull towards, so I was fairly sure that if I asked, you would say yes.”

She grins so I smile back and tell her, “Now, I’ve finally made the offer to you, and you’ve accepted.  That makes you even more valuable to me than if you had said no because now you’ve agreed to know me for eternity, and I’ll be damned if anyone is going to prevent that from happening.  Now that you’ve accepted my offer, only one or both of us dying will keep me from turning you.”

She kisses my cheek, so I squeeze her hip and tell her, “As for keeping you safe, Beth, it’s my honor and privilege to keep you safe.  Remember what I said about vampires and those they consider theirs?”

She tilts her head and has a gentle grin on her face, so I continue explaining myself, “Well, Mick may consider you his, but _I_ consider you _mine_.  Plus, now that Jorge has ruled that I must turn you, the rest of the community considers you mine as well.  Furthermore, childer and future childer are in a special category all their own.  Once you agreed to become my childe, the value I placed on your life increased exponentially.  It was already high to begin with, or I wouldn’t have wanted to turn you in the first place, but now you are mine in a way that only 15 others ever have been before.  As I’ve said before, above all else, I protect those that are mine to the best of my ability, and that’s especially true for my childer.”

I exhale a loud breath and then show her an open and festering wound that I’ve had for more than 52 years now, “The last time I didn’t properly protect someone, Sarah didn’t wake up, and I’m not willing to lose you, too, so I’m going to do everything I possibly can to protect you.  That means Alejandro goes everywhere with you until I’ve turned you.  And I’ll be honest, once I turn you, I’m going to be stuck to you like glue, or, rather, you’ll be stuck to me.  In the first few decades, neither of us will want to be too far from the other, so you won’t be going too many places by yourself and definitely not before you’re a vampire.”

She grins but says, “Sarah wasn’t your fault, Josef.  You told me her doctor prescribed medicine with silver in it.  That’s not your fault.  I don’t know what’s in 99% of the things that my doctor tells me to take so how could you expect you, who isn’t even human, to know every ingredient of every drug a human might take.”

I shake my head faintly, so she sighs and says, “While we’re on the subject, I know Sarah doesn’t blame you either.  She loved you like no other, and she knows you loved her.  I’m sure of it.  It was in every word she wrote.  It was a terrible accident, but it wasn’t really anyone’s fault, and if it takes me the rest of forever, I will get you to see and know that in the deepest parts of your soul.”

I smile at that because if anyone has a chance of convincing me that Sarah’s coma isn’t my fault, it’s probably the woman sitting on my lap right now.  I don’t tell her that, though.  Instead, I tighten my hold on her hip just a bit, so she says, “As for you protecting me, I already said that I won’t argue or be difficult, and I’m going to try really hard not to go back on either of those statements.  So, I’ll just say thank you for caring about me over all the other humans you’ve ever met.”

Smirking I tell her, “It’s purely selfish, Beth.  I just don’t want to live in a world where Beth Turner no longer exists.  Therefore, I am going to do everything in my power to make sure that horrible future never comes true, even if it means losing my best friend, at least for a while.  We’re eternal and forever is a long time, so I have high hopes that eventually he’ll forgive me.”

She shrugs noncommittally, and her scowl clearly tells me that she doesn’t think that I’m the one who needs forgiving, so I squeeze her hip again and say, “I’m working under the assumption that once he sees that I’ve kept my promises to him, he’ll forgive me at least a little.  When he sees that I’m making sure that you don’t follow in our newborn footsteps by creating massacres, I’m hoping that he’ll slowly begin to realize that I was serious when I said I wasn’t ruining your life but rather saving it.  It’s a long shot that he’ll ever truly forgive me, but I’m willing to live with that so long as _you_ continue to exist.”

She tilts her head and then ducks it down a little and kisses me quickly on the lips before pulling back with wide round eyes.  After a moment of staring at me, she brings her hand to her lips and rubs them before a somewhat dazed smile spreads across her face.

After a moment of just staring at me her grin fades somewhat and she tells me, “I don’t think you’re the one in need of forgiveness, but I know you love him, so I hope he forgives you.  Once they capture him, and it’s safe, and you and Celeste decide our seeing each other won’t undermine what you’re teaching us, then I’ll do my best to show him that just because I’ll be a vampire that doesn’t mean that anything other than my diet has changed.”

I squeeze her hip once more with my hand that’s resting there and then help her stand before telling her, “That’s probably the one thing that will win him over more than time alone.”

She grins so I grab her hand and squeeze gently in reply and then say, “It’s getting late, and you still aren’t even dressed yet.”

She leans in and then kisses my cheek this time before letting go of my hand and rushing over to the closet, going into it, and then coming out a moment later with her clothes for the day and striding towards the bathroom.

I take that as my cue and leave the room, so she can get ready for the day ahead.

I go to my bedroom, and I throw on a t-shirt, grab the paperwork still lying on my bed, and then I head to my office a few doors down to finish reading the reports I never finished reading last night, but not until after I call Alejandro. 

I met Alejandro Diego Rojas in Guatemala in 1547, three years after he turned.  He’s been my friend ever since, and for the last 400 years, he’s been my go-to bodyguard whenever I have a human that needs protecting for whatever reason. 

He picks up on the first ring, and I don’t even get to say hello before he tells me, “Good morning, Sheriff.  I’m planning to meet Ms. Turner at your house in about 30 minutes.  Does that work for you or do you need me sooner?”

I laugh and tell him, “Hello to you, too.”

He chuckles back but doesn’t apologize and, honestly, I don’t expect him to, so I tell him, “That should work.”

I can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Then tell her that I’ll be waiting by the limo.”

With a sharp nod even though he can’t see it, I tell him, “I will, thank you.”

He chuckles again and says, “But of course, Josef.  I know how rare it is for you to turn a human.  Although this one is ostensibly being forced on you by your maker, I, and every other vampire in attendance last night heard you say that you chose her to be your childe long before the Magister intervened.  We all heard, clear as day, that the only reason you hadn’t already claimed her for yourself is St. John’s previous claim on her and your well-known attachment to him.  Your compatibility with Ms. Turner is obvious to anyone who pays attention.  The two of you seem to click in ways I don’t think you have with anyone else, not even your previous childer.  Therefore, I’m ignoring the Magister’s involvement in all of this and am treating Ms. Turner like the other humans you wanted me to protect.”

I merely say, “Good.”

He drops the subject after that and asks, “If there’s nothing else, Josef, I need to finish getting ready, so I can be there in time to pick up your future childe.”

After I shift in my seat, I tell him, “That is all.”

We say goodbye, and I sit back and read the reports until Beth stops into my office 45 minutes later.  She’s wearing a grey fitted dress jacket that hugs her curves and black slacks.  It’s too bad that the shell she’s wearing under her coat hides her cleavage because I desperately wouldn’t mind seeing some of her milky curves that I got a peak of last night while she was wearing her crimson dress.

Alas, it’s not meant to be, so I smile at her when she says, “Okay, I’m heading out if I can find the front door.  It took me 12 minutes, multiple empty rooms, a U-turn, _and_ directions from Rider to find you.”

I laugh, and after putting down the papers I was reading, I ask, “Would you like an escort to the front door?”

She gives a gentle nod, so I rise from my chair, and after grabbing my phone off the desk, I stroll to the door before motioning for her to precede me out into the hallway.  When I step through the doorway, I smirk and tell her, “Turn left.”

She does so, and after I place my hand on the small of her back, I tell her, “The main house is basically an ‘H’ shape with four floors.  You have two long corridors that have shorter corridors at the ends of them pointing in and out of the ‘H’ like in a Serif Typeface.  Another corridor connects the main two corridors in the middle and is shorter than the legs of the ‘H’ but longer than the serifs.  You just need to figure out which corridor and floor has which rooms.”

She narrows her eyes and says, “I might need to use a string like in the labyrinth.  I’ll tie it along all the paths I might need to take but make each string a different color instead of just red so that I can just follow the one that goes where I need to go.  Maybe I’ll even make a list of which color goes where that I can keep in my pocket.”

I chuckle and ask, “You got the idea from the myth because I don’t recall that being in the movie?”

She stops walking and turns wide eyes on me and then nods slowly before asking, “You saw that movie?”

I stop walking too and snicker before saying, “Rider has an unhealthy obsession with David Bowie, so, yes, I was forced to watch the movie.”

She giggles and says, “Ooh, I love Bowie.  I’ll have to compare my interests with Rider’s interests.  We might have stuff in common, and we can drag each other to those sorts of things instead of making you sit through whatever.”

I grin and tell her, “He’d love that, and you might actually have quite a bit in common with him from what I know of you, so that would be fabulous, and I’m certainly not going to do anything to discourage you from forming a sibling bond with Rider, or any of my other childer for that matter.”

She snorts and says, “And you certainly won’t discourage anything that prevents you from having to watch or do things that don’t interest you.  Although you get bonus points for having gone and watched Labyrinth with Rider even though you clearly didn’t want to.”

I smile and tell her, “I care about all my childer.  I wouldn’t have offered to turn them if I didn’t, and I try to stay involved in their lives and do things together that interest them whenever possible, even if it doesn’t necessarily interest me.”

She grabs my hand and squeezes before saying, “I’m really happy that you’re the one who will turn me.  I don’t think things would turn out so well if Mick were going to be my maker.  I’m lucky it’ll be you.”

I lift our still joined hands and bring them to my lips before kissing the back of her hand and then tell her, “I don’t think you’re the only lucky one in this situation.”

A blush rushes over her cheeks, but she nods, so I squeeze her hand and tell her, “Going back to navigating the house, our rooms and Rider’s rooms are on the third floor.  My suite of rooms is on the outside of the ‘H.’  My office is attached to the sitting room that’s connected to my bedroom.  All three rooms have doors out in the hallway, so my office is the second door down from my bedroom door, which is almost parallel to your room.  If you take a right out of your room and walk until you get to the next hallway and then go to the end of that and take a left, you’ll find my bedroom four doors down and the office two more doors down from that.  Rider’s rooms are on the opposite side of this hallway, and his bedroom is two more doors down from my office, and then his office is the second door down from that.  However, to get to this corridor, you must pass several of the many stairwells to get to the ground floor, but most of them are behind doors so they might be difficult to find until you’re familiar with the setup of the house.  The main stairs lead directly to the front door, though.”

She narrows her eyes even more and frowns, so I tell her, “We’ve passed six doors, and now we turn into the other corridor.”  We walk for a minute, and then I tell her, “See?  There are the main stairs.”

I lead her down the stairs, but then I steer her away from the front door towards the kitchen and tell her, “First you need to eat.”

She jerks her head from side to side, so I shake mine back at her and say, “You will have another long and trying day sorting through all the vampires involved in your case.  Trust me, we’re a trying lot as a rule so…” Pushing through the door to the kitchen I rarely enter, I interrupt myself and say, “Hello, Susan.”

My head cook smiles at us, and says, “Good morning, Sir, I assume Miss Beth would like some breakfast before starting her day.”

I don’t give my stubborn future childe a chance to say no and instead tell Susan, “Yes, she would.  What smells so delicious?  Is it something that she can have for breakfast?”

Susan turns to the oven and pulls out two cookie sheets with half a dozen coffee mugs on each of them that all have some sort of bread popping out of them.  I don’t get to ask what it is again before Beth bounces on her toes and says, “Oh, Popovers.  Josef, I think I’m suddenly hungry for breakfast after all.”

Chuckling, I tell her, “Good.  While you eat, I’ll just step out and call Jackson and Emma and see when they might be available to fit you in.”

She nods, so I go out into the hallway and place my call.  The phone rings three times before a muffled and sleepy voice says, “This better be good, I still have half an hour before I need to be awake.”

Chuckling I tell him, “Jackson, it’s Josef.  I apologize for the early call.”

I hear fabric rustling before he says, “Josef?  No, it’s no problem, I assume you’re calling about last night.  What do you need?  Whatever it is if I can give it, I will.”

I smile and tell him, “Thank you, Old Friend.  I know you met her briefly while she was making her rounds with the A.D.A., but I didn’t get a chance to formally introduce you to my future childe last night.  Her name is Beth Turner.  As you might have surmised, she works for the D.A.’s office and will be trying to sort this matter out without allowing the humans to discover our existence before the planned revelation.”

He says, “Yes, of course, I assume she needs to talk to Emma or me?”

Even though he can’t see it, I grin at his willingness to cooperate and tell him, “Yes, she’s the new Area Two Investigator.  It’s unofficial for now, but once she turns and acclimates to life as a vampire, I’ll make the official announcement.  In the meantime, I want you to treat her with the utmost respect.”

I can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “We may not have gotten to formally meet her last night, but every vampire there heard her conversations with you and your maker, _and_ we all saw and heard her make the infamous North American Magister laugh like a schoolboy.  Anyone who has won him over while still human must be quite something else, so we would have treated her with respect anyway.”

He pauses then says, “Hold on a second.  Emma is looking through her date book.  I have a meeting with a possible new client, and I’m guessing it will take most of the morning, so Emma will be the easiest of the two of us to reschedule her appointments to fit Ms. Turner in.”

I hear Emma say, “I’m free from 10 a.m. until 1 p.m. and if that doesn’t fit her availability have her call and I’ll move a few meetings around.”

I smile, and after Jackson repeats what his wife said, I tell them both, “I will tell her and give her your numbers to reach you directly if she needs a different time.”

Jackson says, “Of course, Josef, whatever she needs.”

That causes a grin to spread across my face before I tell him, “Thank you, Jackson.”

He chuckles and says, “It’s no problem.  I’m jealous that Emma will get a formal introduction before I do.”

I laugh at that and tell him, “When this mess is over, I’ll invite you both over for drinks and officially introduce you.”

The grin that is likely on his face is still obvious when he says, “I’m going to hold you to that, Josef.”

Striding back towards the kitchen, I say, “I’m sure you will.  Call me if you have any issues with the humans regarding this mess, and I’ll see if Beth can straighten everything out.”

I imagine he’s still grinning when he tells me, “We will, Josef.”

We hang up a moment later after saying goodbye.

When I enter the kitchen, Beth is nowhere in sight.  Tilting my head to the side, Susan chuckles and inclines her head towards a door to the right of the room and says, “I figured she’d be more comfortable in the breakfast nook than in here with me banging about.”

I smile before telling her, “Thank you, Susan.”

She gives a gentle nod and says, “It’s my pleasure, Sir.”

Susan is a were-bear and has worked for me for close to 64 years and has always seemed to enjoy taking care of the humans I keep on hand, so I know she means that.  I just grin before heading to the door she pointed out and entering a room I’m not sure I’ve been in since Marion’s death in 1961.

Beth is sitting at the end of the counter on the far side of the long room.  The filtered sunlight is shining through the wall that’s made entirely of windows and makes her hair shine around her like a halo.

She glances up and over from her popover and giggles lightly before asking, “Why does a vampire have a sunroom that doubles as a breakfast nook?”

With a chuckle, I sit beside her and tilt my face up a bit enjoying the warmth of the sun that I can only safely feel through specially treated windows.  All the windows in each of my residences and businesses have a special treatment on them so I can enjoy the sun as much as possible.

After a minute, I glance at her and answer her question, “I bought the house from William Randolph's estate right after he died, and as you know, he was human, as were the three different owners before him, so the rooms full of windows were their thing, the breakfast nook, too.  I had all the windows treated with a special film that keeps me safe despite the sunlight shining brightly into the room.  It’s nice because I get to feel the warmth of the sun on my skin without feeling those tingling and draining feelings I usually feel while under the light of the sun.”

She grins and then takes another bite of her breakfast and after chewing and swallowing she turns her face and stares at me before asking, “And the naked girls sunning out by the pool?  Did they come with the house, too?”

I chuckle, and after wiggling my eyebrows, I tell her, “No, those are some of my freshies.  I’ve found that freshies usually have no shame, so they often walk around buck naked if they can get away with it.  I think it’s an effort to entice the vampires, and we, as a rule, don’t mind nudity.  Supernaturals tend to be incredibly sexual or at least sensual, and the two-natured are naked when they shift back to their human forms, so most of us wind up with freshies and the two-natured roaming our houses or businesses in their birthday suits.  If it bothers you, I can order everyone to wear clothes when they’re not in their private rooms.”

She shakes her head while she chews and then after swallowing she says, “It’s their home, too, and if they’re comfortable, then I’ll get used to it.  Plus, I’m gonna be a vampire soon, so I assume I’ll be sensual, too, so don’t worry about it.  It just surprised me is all.”

I grin and nod my head, so she smiles at me and asks, “So, what’s the verdict on my getting a meeting with the Monaghans?”

I pick up the napkin lying beside her plate and use it to wipe some butter off her chin.  She giggles again and takes the napkin from me and rubs her chin and lips before asking me, “All clean?”

I lean in and inspect her face before then smiling and telling her, “All clean.”

She slowly moves her head up and down and takes another bite of the bready popover, so I sit back in my chair beside her and say, “I’ll text you Emma and Jackson’s phone numbers, both their cell and office numbers as well as the address of their office.  Emma says to come by anytime between ten and one, and if that doesn’t work for you she said for you to call her, and she’ll move some other people around.”

She gives a soft nod before taking another bite of her breakfast so after texting her the information I promised her, I sit and watch her eat her food. 

Is arousal normal when watching a human eat?  It’s never happened to me before, not even with Sarah, but apparently, there is a first time for everything because my sleep pants are definitely getting tighter again.

She looks at me when she takes her last bite and then hops off her chair and after picking up her plate and empty juice glass she brings her dishes to Susan in the kitchen.

Beth comes back to the counter a moment later and leans over and kisses my cheek or she would have if I hadn’t turned my face just at the right time to get a kiss on the lips.  I laugh at her round eyes and tell her, “Alejandro should already be with the limo.  Have a good day at work, Dear.”

She laughs and then grabs her purse and computer bag off the floor beside her chair where she put them while she ate and then heads out the door into the kitchen.  I count, and five seconds later she comes back into the room and asks, “Uh, is it just a straight shot down the hallway to the front door?”

I chuckle and tell her, “Yes.  Go out of the kitchen door and take a left and then don’t make any turns while going down the hallway and you’ll eventually find the front entryway.”

She inclines her head towards me and says, “Okay, have a good rest, Josef.”

I watch her stride out of the room again before getting up and heading to my bedroom to get at least an hour or two in my freezer before I need to be up and doing things. 

I make sure to take my phone into my freezer room with me in case Beth calls while I’m asleep. 

I strip my clothes off and then barely remember getting into my freezer and laying down before I am out like a light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note:  The idea for the string came from a conversation I had with one of my betas when we were discussing the specifics of Josef’s house, so thank you pyrodaemon for giving me the idea that spawned 500+ additional words in this chapter.


	8. A Blessing in Disguise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is at least one quote from Moonlight in this chapter (I think it comes from episode 15, ‘What’s Left Behind.’) I don’t own those words. They belong to the owners of all things Moonlight.

****

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Chapter 008**

**A Blessing in Disguise**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Friday, February 01, 2008; 2:00 p.m. PST**

**Josef’s Home, Beverly House, Beverly Hills, California**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

My typical hours of sleep on a morning when I’m healthy and haven’t been out in the sun more than normal is an hour.  Today I manage to get two hours of sleep in sub-zero temperatures before I need to get up and attend to business. 

I think the stress of the last week from not knowing what my maker would do about our having killed Anders drained me almost as much as I would have been if I had spent an afternoon out in the sun.  All in all, I’m feeling well rested, now, and am fully ready to deal with whatever my day throws at me.

Beth has called or texted me numerous times since I woke up, alerting me of her progress.  During one of the calls at around 2 p.m., she releases a heavy breath and says, “Simone is useless.  She got me nowhere.”

I nod despite her not being able to see it and ask, “Most humans are, but what’s the story she’s given the police?”

Beth releases a deep exhale again and says, “She was cleaning up after feeding Jorge when it happened, but she’s smart enough to know telling the cops she was with him would cause undue attention to fall on him.  So, her story is she went to the bathroom, and while washing her hands, she heard a yell and then a splash of water before she saw a blur out of the corner of her eye of someone running away.  She went to investigate and found Dominic in the tub.  She screamed and then tried to lift him out but quickly realized he weighed twice what she weighs, so she gave up, and that’s when everyone came running in.”

Apparently, my freshie is loyal enough to stay in custody instead of telling the cops she was with my maker when the possible murder happened.  That’s advantageous because calling attention to my maker could put our secret at risk far before we’re ready for the humans to know of our existence.  Humans discovering us because of the murder of a human would not be beneficial to our public relations either.

Beth releases a heavy breath yet again, and I can easily picture her rubbing the back of her neck while she says, “Ben says Simone and Dominic knew each other, and he thinks they were sleeping together.  Do you know anything about that?”

Now, it’s my turn to release a quick burst of air.  What is the most diplomatic way to explain the nature of my relationship with Simone?  After a moment’s consideration, I settle for, “No, Beth, I don’t think you understand that my relationship with you is not the norm in terms of my standard relationships with humans.  Humans like you, Sarah, Norma Jeane, and William Randolph are rare, and my entering into the type of relationships I’ve had with the four of you is even rarer.”

Pausing, I consider my options and then settle for blunt honesty with a dash of diplomacy before telling her, “This is going to sound harsh, but mostly I put up with humans because I have no other option.  I have freshies because I refuse to drink dead blood, and while I have been known to have sex or at the very least fellatio with a freshie, including Simone, if the mood strikes me, I rarely have meaningful conversations with them.  I certainly don’t pay attention if they decide to regale me with stories from their personal lives because often I just don’t care enough to pay attention.”

I pause again, and then after running my free hand through my already messy hair, I say, “Most of my relationships with humans are of a business nature rather than of a personal nature.  They have things I want, and I pay them to give me those things.  That applies not just to those I do business with but those I feed on or fuck, too.  I can count the number of living humans I consider my friends on two hands and still possibly have a finger left over.  Of those nine or ten individuals, which includes you, only three of you live in the L.A. area, so you three are the only ones I interact with regularly whose personal lives matter to me enough to pay attention when you try to tell me personal things.”

Letting go of another heavy breath, I lean back in my desk chair and tell her, “Therefore, if Simone knew Dominic or if she was sleeping with him, I would have no way of knowing that.  Furthermore, except for how it relates to this case I don’t really care either way.  She’s human and completely replaceable.  Occasionally a human who sparks my interest will enter my life, and that’s usually when I end up offering to turn someone.  Only you, Sarah, my other childer, and the few humans to whom I offered to turn but who refused mattered to me while you were still human.  The fact of the matter is, humans, and freshies, in particular, are, except for a rare few, a dime a dozen.”

Umm, oops, so much for diplomatically explaining the nature of my relations with humans.  Beth has been silent throughout my entire explanation, and I brace myself for righteous indignation, but fortunately for me, Beth snickers and tells me, “You, Josef Kostan, are a snob, but you’re _my_ snob now that you’re to be my maker.  That said, moving on from your less than low opinion of most of my current species, Emma gave me info on the kid, Hank Bishop, who got into it with Dominic last night.  They were on the Hearst Team together, and they competed for everything, playing time, girls, you name it.  The NBA drafted Dominic, not Hank, and by all accounts, he resented that fact, big time.  The police are searching for him because by the time they showed up last night he was long gone, but they haven’t had much luck locating him.”

I kick my feet out under my desk before I ask, “When do you figure you’ll be home?”

My mind’s eye has her shrugging before she says, “I’m not sure, by 6 p.m. the latest, unless we find Hank.  Do you want me to call before I come home?”

Shaking my head, I tell her, “No, I was simply curious if you had any idea when your workday might end.  I’ll let you get back to work, but call me if you need anything, okay?”

I can hear the smile in her voice when she says, “Thank you, Josef, I will.”

She hesitates and then asks, “Um, Josef, do you know why my savings and checking accounts now have a combined total of over $750,000 more in them than they did yesterday?”

I grin even though she can’t see me and tell her, “I told you your days of off the rack shopping are over, and I meant it.  I decided instead of creating a new account for your fun money I’d use the two you already have.  I also created a third account in your name, which will house the rest of what I pay you until I can properly build you an investment portfolio.  Once I’ve done that, the third account will be your cash savings.  It will also receive your interest and dividends.”

She doesn’t say anything for a full minute and then says, “Okay, I’m not used to having that much money at my disposal, but I know you well enough to know arguing would be pointless.”

I snicker and snort even while she says, “Plus the point you made the other night about the others in the community looking down on you, well, I don’t want to be the cause of you losing face, so I’ll just say thank you, Josef.”

My muscles relax at her words, so I tell her, “You’re welcome, Beth, and I still say you’re worth every penny the area is going to pay you as evidenced by how hard you’re already working on this case.”

She chuckles and says, “And on that note, I need to go talk to Guillermo about a possible blood sample taken off Dominic, so I’ll let you go now.”

Smiling, I tell her, “Okay, if he gives you a harder than normal time or is reluctant to assist you without Mick’s involvement call me and put him on the phone, and I’ll make sure he knows of your new position despite your still being human.”

She replies, “I will, thank you,” and we hang up a moment later.

Vincent and Rider are in my office with me, and they were busy pretending they weren’t in the room during my call.  Vincent was staring at a stack of papers while Rider was finishing setting up his computers at his new workstation. 

I decided it makes no sense for Rider and me to work in separate rooms when I might need him to work on his computers in my office from time to time, so his set up is now permanently in the corner of my office.

Once I hang up, they both smile, and Vincent says, “I like her.  Few humans would have reacted to your little rant like that.  In fact, most of them would have gotten indignant and then hung up on you, but not until after yelling and screaming and cursing you out.”

Rider nods deeply at his brother’s words, so I chuckle at the accuracy of that statement and then tell them, “She’s one of a kind because, in all my years, I’ve never met anyone quite like her.”

They both nod a couple more times, so I sit forward and ask, “Now, where were we?”

Vincent hands me a stack of papers and says, “The SEC and both sets of investors have approved the acquisition, so all you need to do is read over the paperwork and then sign, and I’ll fax it to their offices while you read over some other papers I need you to consider today.”

I take the papers from his hands, sit back, and begin reading, and so goes the rest of my afternoon.

Around 6 p.m. Beth comes through the door of my office where I am partaking of some nice warm AB Negative straight from the vein.  I was hoping she’d walk in on me feeding so I can see what her reaction will be. 

She doesn’t disappoint when she just stands there watching with a smile on her face.  I hold her gaze while I finish feeding.  When I’m done, I lick the wound on the freshie’s neck clean and then smirk at Beth before telling my evening meal, “Thank you, Mona, that will be all for tonight.”

She pats my hand before she hops off my lap where she was sitting while I fed.  She beams at me and then grins at Beth while she saunters past her.  Mona’s smile is different than the tense one Simone gave Beth all last night, and if I’m not mistaken, Mona’s is genuine. 

Just before the petite redhead strolls through the doorway, she turns and says, “I hope you both have an excellent night.”

Beth grins and says, “Thank you, you too, Mona.”

She inclines her head and then leaves us alone in my office.  Smirking I ask, “Did you find my office all by yourself or did you cheat?”

Beth giggles before telling me, “I actually found it on my own, and it only took me eight minutes and one U-turn this time.”

I snicker and wiggle my eyebrows before saying, “Progress.  Excellent.  So, are you done for the day?”

She furrows her brow and then says, “No, I’ve got a tip on Hank Bishop, the guy Dominic got into a fight with last night.  The cops already combed through the place, but I thought a vampire might pick up on something the human cops missed.  I mean, maybe you’ll smell something, or Mick once said you can tell when people are lying, so you could tell me if the kid the cops spoke to this afternoon is on the up and up.  Or—”

I chuckle and stand before telling her, “Relax Beth.  I’m not opposed to helping you.”  I finish my statement by grabbing my leather jacket off the back of my desk chair and then sliding into it. 

Beth is still wearing the fitted stone-grey jacket over a black top and black dress slacks from this morning.  I take a minute and just enjoy the vision of her before putting my phone and my keys into my jacket pocket.

She rubs her hands together and then wipes them on the legs of her slacks before she looks me up and down and then says, “Wow, I’ve never seen you so dressed down.  I think I’ve only ever seen you in a suit or at least a sports coat.”

Preening, I strike a pose and let her take in my full outfit of jeans, vintage Zeppelin concert t-shirt, and leather jacket.  With a smirk firmly on my face, I say, “Well, it is the weekend.”

She giggles but grins, so after she waves at Rider and he smiles at both of us, I escort her out of the office and towards the front door.  When we get outside, I narrow my eyes at the sight of her little silver Prius sitting in my driveway. 

She beams at me, and while guiding me to her car, which is parked across from the back gate, she says, “I know it’s not what you typically ride in, but we need to be a bit lower key than a limo, or one of your flashy sports cars would allow us to be.  So, I ran home when I finished all my interviews and grabbed my car.  Oh, and don’t worry, Alejandro came with me and sniffed for bombs, which, for the record, I don’t think that’s the kind of threat we’re dealing with, but he said he wouldn’t take any chances with the future childe of his sheriff.  He also scanned the car for trackers and bugs but didn’t find any.”

She stops beside her vehicle and turns to face me and the back gate before saying, “He made a comment about needing to get under it to get a better look, but not wanting to leave me unprotected while he did it.  I couldn’t help him there, but I do have a CSI friend who had the tools necessary to get a better view without putting me at risk.  So, I drove us to the police department’s impound lot, and I told my friend I just broke up with my P.I. boyfriend and he seemed a tad sketchy and stalker-ish the last time I saw him.  As expected, he offered to sweep the car for bugs and trackers.  He found one tracker, which he said was the most well-hidden tracker he’d ever found on a vehicle.  Anyway, it’s now a crushed mess at the impound lot.”

I furrow my brows and tell her, “Next time bring something like that to me, and I’ll see if Rider can get anything from the device, but I’m glad and proud you and Alejandro thought of that possibility and took care of it on your own.”

She smiles but tells me, “My crime-scene tech friend, Sheppard ‘Sherlock’ Holmes, apparently knows Alejandro, which makes me think he’s a vampire or other supernatural.”

I smirk and incline my head to confirm her suspicion and then she says, “Okay, thought so, anyway, he said it was a standard GPS tracking device, and he tried to see who the signal was being sent to, but it turned out to be a burner phone.  I doubt Mick is stupid enough to still have his everyday phone on him, so it being a burner doesn’t rule him out.  If it’s not him, then it could also be someone working on his behalf.  I texted the number of the phone to Rider, so he can see if he can track it or get any useful information from it.  Anyway, Sherlock said there was no way to tell exactly how long it had been on the car, but he did mention that compared to the rest of the undercarriage the tracker was almost spotless.”

She shifts on her feet and rubs her palms on her pants again before saying, “That tells me it was placed there in the last few days because I was on some muddy back roads right before the whole mess with Jacob Fordham going missing.  Mick and Ben mostly drove me everywhere during that case, and today is only the second time I’ve driven my car since the day after my excursion into the muddy back roads to meet a source for a story I was hoping to write.  That makes me believe Mick did set up a backup plan.  Anyway, I picked up my car from my house right at the end of my day, and Sherlock only took about 25 minutes to scan it.  Then Alejandro escorted me home here, and I plan to stick with you or him until I’m turned just to be safe.”

She wipes her hands on her pants again before I narrow my eyes and tell her, “Damn, okay, I need you to be super diligent and aware of your surroundings.  If anything seems out of the ordinary, I need you to either call and tell me or tell Alejandro, okay?”

She narrows her eyes and says, “Definitely, which leads me to tell you the blue car that just drove by your gate for the third time while we’ve been out here was also on this street when Alejandro and I pulled in.  It was behind me and drove past when I pulled into your driveway.”

Shit, okay, I take out my phone and speed dial my Maker.  He picks up on the second ring and asks, “We just spoke, so I assume something has happened?”

With a ramrod straight back and eyes searching the surroundings I tell him, “Beth thinks she’s been followed today, and a police friend of hers, who happens to be one of ours, found a GPS Tracker on her car that we believe, due to its spotlessness, was placed there since you made your ruling against Mick and me.  I’m calling to formally report that I believe Mick has co-conspirators who may be trying to undermine your authority.  Beth and I both want you to know if she disappears, it won’t be of her own volition.  That claim is further supported by the fact everything I just told you was told to me by Beth with an expectation that I will keep her safe _and_ with me.”

He grunts and asks, “Do you have any details on the vehicle that was following her?”

I tell him, “It’s a blue, compact car,”

Beth interrupts and tells me, “It’s a Honda Civic.  The first three numbers of the license plate are 39D, and the last number is Y.  I couldn’t see the two numbers in between the D and Y because something was obscuring my view.  At the distance I was at from it and glancing through my rear-view mirror, I think it was mud, but don’t quote me on that.”

She pauses then says, “There, Josef they just drove by again.”

I tell her, “Go in the house and don’t come out until I find you.”

My eyes widen when Beth immediately obeys.  I jerk my head back and forth to clear it, and then with my phone still in my hand and the connection with my maker still open, I rush off after the car.  After hopping over the gate, I follow it around the block.  When they pass my driveway again, I rush forward and stand in the way of the car a few hundred feet in front of it.  They slam on their brakes and I speed to the car and open the driver side door before pulling a were I’m familiar with out of the car. 

Robert Sneedum is a were-bear, a grizzly to be specific.  He’s just as hairy as you’d expect a man who turns into a bear to be and his reddish-brown facial hair is so long and unruly it melds with his shoulder-length hair and both hide his deeply tan skin.

He’s the same height as me, but he has a barrel chest and heavily tattooed arms that would rival the Hulk’s bulging muscles.  Despite that, I still manage to hold him tightly before telling Stan Franklin, the were-black-bear sitting in the passenger seat, “Both of you, in my house now before I kill you first and discover my answers some other way.”

Franklin pulls at his pitch-black goatee and then runs his fingers through his unruly hair the color of coal that matches the shade of his fur when he’s in his bear form.  His dark chocolate eyes are almost as dark as his hair and stark against his chalky white skin. 

His dark eyes are wide and round before he shivers and nods.

Sneedum jerks his head up and down, too, despite my hold on him, so I let go of him and tell him, “Drive into my driveway and don’t make a run for it because I know both of you are, Sneedum and Franklin, so there will be no place for either of you to hide.”

Sneedum’s shoulders sag before he gets back into the car and reverses it towards my driveway.  I take my keys out of my pocket and press the button to open the gate before he drives into the circular courtyard and parks, but neither Sneedum nor Franklin gets out of their car. 

I stride up to the vehicle and tell them, “Come with me inside, and don’t do anything foolish because I’ll warn you, a threat to my future childe is enough to make me irritable.  I think you both know of me enough to know that’s a dangerous emotion for me to direct towards you.”

They both incline their heads before exiting their car and preceding me into the house.  I direct them to my office.  When I enter, I exhale sharply and stride to Beth who is huddling in the far corner behind Rider who’s in a protective stance.  They both have stakes in their hands. 

Rider moves out of my way while I tell her, “Well, at least you’re proactive while also obeying my orders, that will bode well for our future together.”

She drops the stake and rushes into my arms.  I wrap my arms around her and hold her tightly while she trembles.   I can smell her tears, and I actively fight the urge to tear out the hearts of those responsible for scaring her.  I whisper into her ear, “Shh, Beth, you’re safe.  You saw them and pointed them out, and now my Maker and I will get to the bottom of this.”

She’s still sniffling into my chest, so pulling her away from my body, I cup her cheeks with my hands and gaze into her watery eyes before asking, “Do you want Rider to bring you to your room while I question them?”

As expected, she forcefully swings her head from side to side.  Wiping the tears from her eyes, she tells me, “No, I want to hear what they say, and I’m the one who’s noticed them today, so I might be able to contradict something they might try to tell you.”

I smile before telling her and Rider, “You both make me proud to call you mine.”

Sneedum chooses that moment to say, “I thought she belonged to St. John?  That’s what he said when he texted us and asked us to grab her for him.  He said a rival vampire had kidnapped her, and he needed her retrieved.  We didn’t know he was talking about you Sheriff.  I swear.  We would have known he was full of shit if he had mentioned your name.”

I frown while I guide Beth to my desk chair and push her gently down, so she sits.  I place myself between them and her. 

Rider holds out his hands to both weres and says, “Give me your phones and any other devices you have on your person.”

They don’t hesitate, which is a good sign, so once Rider has their tech in his hands and sits down at his desk to examine the phones, I ask, “How long have you been following her?”

Sneedum gulps hard enough that even Beth can probably hear it before he says, “Since Wednesday night.  We followed your limo here after you both left her apartment.”

I narrow my eyes and then ask him, “And you didn’t recognize me then even though a mere two days later you easily recognize me and know I am the area sheriff?”

He jerks his head and says, “No, we recognized you right away.  We know you’re close to St. John, so we figured you had retrieved her for him.  We tried contacting him but got no answer, so we decided to keep eyes on her at all times and wait until he contacts us and tells us you rescued her for him.  We figured if someone is actively trying to take her we’d be an extra set of eyes and maybe be able to help if possible.”

Using a were’s physical cues to detect lies is a mite more difficult than on a human but I’ve been doing this for millennia, and his physiology tells me he’s telling the truth as he knows it. 

Narrowing my eyes, I stare at them for a minute and then say, “The North American Magister ordered me to turn Ms. Turner as punishment for Mick and me killing another vampire in her defense.  Mick is trying to steal her away before I can carry out the sentence handed down to us.”

Both of their eyes widen at that, so I tell them, “The reason he hasn’t responded to your calls is he’s on the run from the Magister and his agents.  He’s likely already out of the area because only someone stupid wouldn’t put distance between himself and my maker and make no mistake, Mick might be acting stupid right now, but he’s not stupid by any means.  Anyhow, as you can see, my future childe is here willingly, and she is adept at following my orders.”

Both weres’ eyes are wide and round, but they shake their heads before Franklin tells me, “We swear we didn’t know, Sheriff.  We wouldn’t have come near her with a 12-foot pole if we knew what was actually going on.”

Vampires and weres don’t have reliable interspecies communication regarding rulings the Magister or Pack Masters make, so he’s likely telling the truth.  I release a heavy breath and tell him, “I know.  However, I will be handing you both over to the Magister for further questioning because ultimately it’s _his_ authority Mick is trying to usurp.”

They both begin trembling, which is typical of someone after learning my maker is going to question them.  I give them a few seconds to calm themselves, and then I say, “I’ll make sure and inform him you’ve both fully cooperated, and I believe that you were not told the truth about what is going on.  I’ll also make it clear that once you knew of my involvement, you decided to remain in place as a sort of protection detail against the threat you had been told is endangering Ms. Turner.”

I grin when the door to my office opens, and my maker and three of his people, including Luisa, stride into the room.  Jorge smiles at Beth and me and tells us, “Children, I am glad to see you are both well.  Josef, I will take your opinions under advisement.  Beth, is there anything else I need to know before I take these two into custody?”

She’s lost some of her color, and there is a grimace firmly etched on her face.  She’s also trembling a touch, so I stride back to her and pull her out of the seat before sitting down and pulling her onto my lap with my arms around her. 

She snuggles in as close as she can and says, “Not that I recall, Grandsire.  Alejandro and I noticed them when I got out of the limo at Emma Monaghan’s office, and then we noticed them at my house and then again driving past the driveway here several times.  Alejandro was planning to call Josef and tell him, but I promised to tell him.  I kind of forgot, but I told him as soon as I saw them pass this house a third time and realized it was not a coincidence.  Um, that’s all I know, well, other than what Josef told you about the tracker, but we haven’t asked if it was theirs or not.”

My maker, Beth, Rider, and I all stare at the two would-be-protectors while they glance at each other before Sneedum then tells us, “Yes, we placed a tracker on her car while she was inside her apartment Wednesday night.”

My sire tilts his head to the side and asks Beth, “Childe, was there only one tracker found?”

She nods into my chest and says, “Yes, sir.  My friend swept the car three times to make sure he hadn’t missed any.”

Jorge stares at us for a moment and then tells me, “Josef, your brother is inspecting her car now, and I’ll let you know if he finds anything her friend might have missed.”

He watches Beth cuddling me for a split second and then tells her, “Not that I doubt the accuracy of your friend, but due to being surrounded by humans at the time, he could only check for human surveillance techniques, so he might have missed a few possible supernatural trackers.”

She glances over at him and says with a tremulous smile on her face, “You’re the boss, Grandsire, and I’m not going to question your decisions.  You’ve been alive a lot longer than I have, so I’m running under the assumption that the number of things you know that would never even occur to me is so big it can’t be quantified.”

He smirks at her and says, “That speaks volumes about the elevated level of your intelligence.”

She smiles but holds onto me a little tighter, which causes me to narrow my eyes.  She’s not the type to cower in fear so as soon as my maker and his prisoners leave I need to find out why she’s reacting this way.

Standing with her in my arms, I set her down on top of my desk facing me and move to shake my maker’s hand and walk him out in case he needs to tell me anything he doesn’t want Beth to know.  I take a few steps and then turn quickly when Beth gasps.  She’s sitting in my chair again, and her eyes are wide, and she’s lost even more color than before.  I step back to her and squat at her level, and putting my hand on her knee, I ask, “Are you alright, Beth?”

She shrugs and says, “I—I’m nooot suuure.  I tried to staaand, but my leeegs wouldn’t hold meee.  I—I thiiiink something’s wrooong, but I donnn’t know whaaaat.  I feeeel, tingly and hhhhhot and everything haaaas a kind of dreeeamy look to iiiit.”

She’s also slurring her words.  Without thinking, I bite into my wrist and hold it to her mouth before telling her, “Here, drink.  My blood should heal you and get rid of whatever toxin is creating these symptoms.”

She barely hesitates, and after wrapping her lips around the wound in my wrist, she swallows eight mouthfuls of my blood before the wound heals.  I glance over my shoulder and ask my maker, “Should I give her more?”

He shrugs and says, “It can’t hurt childe.  The only malady that affects humans that our blood can’t cure is cancer, so it should remove whatever she’s been drugged with.”

I bite my wrist again and give it back to Beth who drinks nine swallows this time before it heals.  She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and says, “I feeel betterrr.  Not a hundreddd percent but it’s geeetting betterrr by the seconddd.”

Her slurring has diminished dramatically, and her color is already returning to normal, so I exhale at the near miss we just experienced.

Sneedum and Franklin are quaking even more than before, and when I stand to face them, they both cower as much as the vampires holding them will allow, and they both say at the same time, “We didn’t do _that_ , I swear it.”

My youngest blood-brother, Spencer, saunters into the room.  His skin has massive wrinkles like a prune and is dove white but with a sickly tinge of grey, which only emphasizes how heavily wrinkled his skin is.

My eyes drift from his withered skin to his black Metallica concert T and leather pants that are a stark contrast to our maker’s $2,000, midnight blue pin-striped suit. 

Even without his heavy motorcycle boots, Spencer is taller than me by four inches, so he’s taller than Jorge by eight inches, and my brother’s lithe body appears like it belongs to a runner with long sinewy arms and thickly muscled legs that only emphasize the shriveled effect.

His hair is short and spiky like mine.  It used to fall down his back to his ass, which was the style when he was a human in Ireland.  He hates the ruddy orange hue, though, so once short hair became acceptable by society’s standards, he chopped most of it off.

My eyes finally make it to his narrowed eyes, which are a watery green like the rind of a honeydew melon.  There is a hard glint to them when our eyes meet, so I allow mine to drift to his lips which are frowning.

His vampire gift is an enhanced sense of smell so although his nose appears to be a regular nose, it is much more sensitive than the nose of an average vampire three times his age, so I’m not surprised when he tells our sire, “Master, I smell magick and some unknown compound in Ms. Turner’s car.  Furthermore, when we touched the steering wheel, our hands tingled so she might need medical attention.  We took samples, so we’ll find out what it is as soon as possible but, in the meantime…”

After I hang up from my still connected call with my maker, I waste no time dialing.  When the other line picks up, I tell the woman who answers, “Dr. Ludwig, it’s Josef Kostan.  I’m sorry to disturb you on a Friday evening, but my future childe has been poisoned, and I’ll feel better if you examine her.”

She clucks her tongue and asks, “Are you around humans who shouldn’t see me teleport?”

Sighing, I tell her, “No, we’re in my office at my home.”

She asks, “Am I still on the list of those who can teleport onto your property, or do I need to go to the edge of your property?”

Even though she can’t see it, I jerk my head from side to side again and tell her, “You’re still on the short list of exceptions etched into the talisman.”

I imagine her habitual scowl on her face even while she says, “Then I’ll be there momentarily.”

Two seconds later Beth gasps when the short, stocky woman in scrubs magickally appears before us.  I’ve never been able to figure out if her hair is blonde or grey, but it’s light and twisted up under her surgical cap. 

Daphne and I met three years before my turning, and we’ve been close friends ever since I rescued her daughter from some humans with ill intent 35 centuries ago, give or take a decade, so I’m not surprised when the regularly surly woman smiles at me. 

She marches towards Beth and me, and narrowing her ocean blue eyes, she says, “I know you’re worried Josef, but I need you to move to the side just a bit, so I can see my patient.”

I laugh at that because I hadn’t even realized I’d moved in between Beth and any would-be threat.  I step to the side of the chair Beth is sitting in and squat back down to her level, and while holding her hand, I tell her, “Beth, this is Dr. Ludwig.  She is the best Supernatural Doctor in this dimension and possibly any other.” 

Daphne chuckles at that and tells her, “I’m good.  I’ll give him that, but I don’t know if I’m the best in all the dimensions.  Now, Childe, what are your symptoms and why does your future maker believe you’ve been poisoned?”

Everyone in the room takes turns filling the doctor in on what has happened in the last 15 minutes. 

While we’re talking she checks Beth’s blood pressure after which, she tells us, “Hmm, a bit elevated but nothing to worry about.  I imagine the scare of this situation could be enough to do that.”

She takes out a tongue depressor and asks Beth, “Open up, Dearie,”

Beth grins and opens her mouth.  She sticks her tongue out and says, ‘ahh’ when told to.

The doctor holds her hands over Beth’s forehead and her belly and then after I tell her, “My hand that has Beth’s in mine is tingling where they touch,” she inspects Beth’s hands which are turning red as though the skin is irritated.  She hands Beth and me some handi-wipes and has us clean our hands.  She hands us another handi-wipe when we’re done and tells us, “Here, wipe your hands on a clean one to make sure we’ve gotten it all off.  These aren’t human handi-wipes.  They’re magickal, so they’ll remove the poison better than washing your hands with water.”

Beth and I both do as we’re told and wipe our hands clean while Daphne digs through her bag for a minute and then pulls out a vial and hands it to Beth and tells her, “Drink up.”

Beth glances at me, so I tell her, “I trust her only to give you things that will help you, not harm you.”

She shrugs and then throws back the vial drinking down its contents.  The vampires in the room laugh and snicker at Beth when she squints her eyes and puckers her lips.  She groans a second later and says, “A little warning would be nice next time, Doctor.”

Daphne chuckles and tells her, “I’ll consider it,” before she digs through her bag again and comes out with two small blue cups and a bottle.  She pours some of the liquid from the bottle into each cup and hands one to Beth before telling her, “I can smell your tears, so I think the poison got into your system a little faster because you wiped your eyes with the hands that had it on them.  Use these cups to rinse your eyes.”

Beth slowly takes one cup and leaning her face over it, she rests her eye against it before tipping her head and the cup back and blinking into the liquid a few times.  After a few long seconds, Beth tilts her face and the cup back down and then removes the cup from her eye, blinking away the remaining liquid from her eye.

When she finishes with that one, Daphne hands her another handi-wipe, and she cleans the skin around the eye.  Then she repeats the process on the other eye.

I’m still squatting beside Beth so I’m at Daphne’s eye range and when she glances my way our eyes meet.  She smiles and says, “The good news is you gave her your blood at the first sign of trouble.  As your maker said, only cancer doesn’t respond positively to your blood so for future reference when in doubt feed her your blood.”

I will keep that in mind if the need arises, so I nod before she turns and stares at Beth and asks her, “Childe, when is the last time you ate or drank anything today?”

Beth’s brow furrows and so does mine because if she needs to think that hard about it, then I’m not going to like what she has to say.  A minute later she shrugs and says, “Um, I had some orange juice and two popovers this morning before heading to work.  I think I had an apple for lunch.”

I turn the chair she’s in to face me and ask, “You think?”

Daphne intervenes and says, “That’s the poison messing with her cognitive abilities.  The effect should clear within 10 minutes after the antidote I gave her has a chance to work its magick.”

My muscles loosen at that before Daphne asks, “Is it normal for you to eat so little in a day?”

Beth uses her foot and turns the chair back to face the doctor before saying, “No, but ordinarily I have Mick helping me on a case.  Because it was only me, I had to be in twice as many places than usual, so I just didn’t even think about eating.”

Daphne raises a brow and narrows her eyes and asks, “Okay, Josef, will it upset things if you help her out in St. John’s place until this mess is cleared up?”

Swinging my head from left to right, I tell them both, “No, in fact, if necessary I’ll glamour whoever needed to make the humans ignore that I’m tagging along.  I also have plans to find her a new vampire partner, so once I narrow down the list of acceptable candidates and she picks one, it shouldn’t be an issue anymore.”

Daphne pats Beth’s hand and says, “Good.  Now, I imagine you have things to do, Girlie, so here’s what’s going to happen.  You should drink half your body weight in ounces of water every day.”

I raise my brow, so the doctor shrugs and says, “She’s dehydrated.  If it continues, it could become an issue.”

Then she narrows her eyes and says to Beth, “I want you eating at least three meals a day, and two snacks in between, and dessert after supper won’t hurt either.”

Beth laughs and nods, so the Doctor begins putting her things back into her bag.  I watch for a minute and then ask, “What was she poisoned with?”

She glances up from her bag and says, “Belladonna with a magic delay.”

My eyes widen at that because even _I_ know that shit is deadly to humans.  She scowls and tells me, “I suppose the culprit was trying to throw you off on when and where she picked it up, so they used magick to delay the absorption of the poison, but her wiping her eyes sped it up.  Either way, your blood saved her life.”

At her words, Beth grabs my hand in hers and holds on for dear life before asking, “Some—someone tried to kill me?  Josef, Mick wouldn’t do that, would he?  I mean if the choice were death or turning, he wouldn’t choose death, would he?”

Shit.  The fact of the matter is my exceedingly stubborn and shortsighted best friend might just choose death, so I grip her hand and pull her into my arms.  Stroking her hair, I tell her, “I think we both know the answer to that.”

Her lips trembles and her shoulders slump.  I’m sure everyone scents her tears on the air again, too.  She pulls back from me a tad and stares me in the eye before telling me, “He’s dead to me, Josef.  I don’t want to see him or talk to him after he’s caught.  I want nothing to do with him.  If his solution is to kill me without asking my opinion on the matter, then he’s, then he’s not the friend I thought he was.  I—”

She bursts into tears, so I pull her back into my arms and then stand simultaneously pulling her into a standing position, too, before sitting in my chair and pulling her onto my lap again.  She snuggles into my arms and just lets out all her pain in the form of wracking sobs.

I barely notice when my brother leaves the room and then comes back 10 minutes later with Susan in tow.  Susan frowns while she places a plate with a hefty sandwich, French fries and what appears to be corn in some sort of creamy sauce on the desk in front of us.  She lays down flatware and then steps back from the desk and tells me, “Sir, I’ll have some healthy snacks made and in the fridge for when you both get home or was Mr. Spencer wrong when he said you’ll be stepping out for a few hours?”

Laughing despite the situation, I tell her, “Beth is stubborn, and she’ll want to get to the bottom of our mystery as soon as possible, so once she eats, we’ll go follow the clue she mentioned before this happened.”

Susan inclines her head and after placing a tall glass of water and a water bottle on my desk says, “I’ll also make sure to prepare her a lunch to take with her for tomorrow, too.”

Beaming at her, I say, “Thank you, Susan.”

She puts her hands on her hips and then says, “Oh, and Ms. Walker is in the foyer.  I felt it best not to show her up until you tell me to.”

When I made the arrangements to take Simone to the dedication, we agreed I wouldn’t feed from her today because we both assumed I’d feed from her yesterday.  Of course, I didn’t feed on her, but my maker did.  Our decision is still a sound one, so I’m unsure why she’s here tonight.  I’m seriously beginning to think it might be best to sever ties with Simone sooner rather than later.  However, tonight is not the time for that conversation, so after releasing a long slow breath, I say, “Tell her to go home, and I’ll call her in the next couple of days to discuss what’s happened.  Beth needs to eat, and she doesn’t need to be sneered at while she does it.”

Beth pulls away at the second mention of her name and glances at the food on the desk.  She smiles and wipes at her eyes again before saying, “Thank you, Susan, it looks excellent.”  She picks up half of the overstuffed sandwich which smells of egg and mayonnaise and takes a bite before moaning and after chewing and swallowing, she tells us all, “I’m looking forward to becoming a vampire, but I think I’m going to miss food.”

All the vampires present laugh at that, and it’s my maker who tells her, “It happens to the best of us, Childe.  Food was quite different when I was human, but I remember missing salmon right after being turned.”

Beth narrows her eyes a bit and asks, “Hmm, salmon.  Hey Susan, can you get me some everything bagels and cream cheese and some lox for breakfast tomorrow?”

My cook beams at her before saying, “Of course, Dear.”

Daphne nods and tells Beth, “Good.  That means you not eating today was an anomaly and not the standard way of things.”

Beth grins and says, “Oh yeah, I love food, and my thighs and hips are evidence of that, but I can’t resist, so I put up with a big butt because the alternative is too sad.”

Chuckling, I tell her, “I happen to be unbelievably fond of your ass so be careful what you say about it.”

Everyone laughs and then my maker says, “We’ll leave you and Beth to see to her food and then to her lead.  Rider, send me whatever you get from these two weres’ devices.”

Rider is so intent on what he’s doing he merely shows him a thumbs up, but before he can finish what he’s doing and say anything, Daphne jerks her head back and forth and says, “I need to talk to the three of you about her turning before you leave.”

What could she possibly have to say about Beth’s turning?  Unless there’s something she’s noticed in her examination of Beth that indicates it won’t work.  Goddess, I couldn’t handle it if that happened again.  I may not be in love with Beth, but her not waking would gut me even worse than when Sarah failed to wake up.

My brow furrows and my lips thin while my maker narrows his eyes and says, “Very well,” he glances at the two vampires still holding tightly to Sneedum and Franklin and then says, “Drake and Filmore, take the prisoners to the van.”

The two vamps in question merely bow a little and then march their charges out of the room and to the van. 

Susan smiles, bows slightly, and then also follows them out of the room.

The doctor waits until all the supes in the room hear the van door close and then she continues, “First, I see no reason her turning won’t eventually work, so, Josef, don’t worry about that.”

I release a gust of air I don’t need at that.  When I tip my head to show I understand, Daphne continues, “There are, however, two factors that suggest waiting is the best bet.  First, she has silver in her system.  My guess is someone has been dosing her for at least the last week.  It’s not enough to hurt her now, but as you all know turning someone with even a tiny bit of silver in their system is disastrous.  Secondly, and this one will push the date of her turning back the most, she’s almost exactly six weeks pregnant with twins.  I’d say conception happened four weeks ago, give or take a day or two.”

She’s what?  I never thought I’d think these words but thank the Goddess someone tried to kill her.  If I had turned her and she had lost her babies, I would never have forgiven myself.  Someone is definitely watching out for us.

After a pause to let us all absorb the news, Daphne continues but directs her words to my maker, “I know mortals are of little consequence to you, Jorge.  However, I think even you would agree turning a pregnant woman and forcing her to lose her children is cruel and unusual punishment, especially considering to my knowledge Beth hasn’t done anything wrong.”

She’s correct, of course.  None of this situation is Beth’s fault.  Mick and I are the ones who broke the law.  Beth, and now her babies, are just innocent bystanders Mick and I inadvertently tangled up in our mess.  This news certainly changes things, though. 

I stare at my maker knowing he’s not cruel enough to require me to turn her until after she has her babies, but I still hold my breath while I wait to hear his thoughts on the matter.

My sire pushes out a sharp, yet, heavy breath but says, “You are quite right, Doctor.  While I have little care for most humans, I would never knowingly contribute to the harm of an unborn child, never mind two.  Furthermore, I am fond of my future grandchilde enough not to want to force her to suffer that loss.  So, I will allow Josef and Beth to wait until after she has finished breastfeeding before he turns her.”

I exhale another gust of air.  While I didn’t doubt that my maker would let us wait, hearing the words come out of his mouth calms me somewhat.  He smiles but says, “I’ve read enough to know breastfeeding is essential to the proper health and development of a child.  Therefore, you both will have up to three years from the date of the children’s births before I will begin asking for you to set a time and date for you to turn Beth.” 

Wow, that’s a lot more than I expected.  I figured he’d give her a few months to breastfeed.  Three years should be more than enough time to make sure the children are well before it’s time to worry about Beth becoming a vampire.

I beam at him and say, “Thank you, Master.  I think I can safely speak for both of us when I say we appreciate your willingness to adapt to our new situation.”

He smiles wider and nods a few times before telling us, “I will make sure everyone who needs to know is made aware of the change in plans.  I will also ensure anyone who might be a potential threat will know Beth and her children are under our protection indefinitely, and the change in plans is fully approved by me in my capacity as the Magister of North America.”

He furrows his brow for a moment and then surprises me by asking Daphne, “The poison didn’t hurt my future great-grandchildren did it?”

He sounds so earnest when he asks that I laugh despite the subject matter and so does Beth before the doctor says, “Josef’s blood undid any damage the Belladonna and the silver might have done to them.  Though, I would suggest Beth drink Josef’s blood at least once but preferably twice a day for the duration of her pregnancy and nursing.  It will give the children benefits that will be valuable to a boy and girl raised by vampires.”

A boy and a girl.  Beth is going to have a son and a daughter.  A pang stabs through my chest at the knowledge that I can never have a child in the traditional sense.  I became a slave when I was only 12 years old, and Jorge always planned for me to turn, so he kept me from marrying anyone.  None of the slave girls I ever slept with while human had any children in a period that would suggest I was the father, so I’m quite confident I never had any rugrats.  That’s one of my few regrets, and I don’t believe in regrets.  However, now I might at least get to help raise these children, this boy and girl, borne of my future childe. 

Beth turns her gaze on me and with tears in her eyes she asks, “Are you mad, Josef?  I’m sorry.  If I had known, I would have—”

Placing a finger over her lips, I allow the corners of my lips to tilt up gently and then tell her, “I’m not angry, surprised for sure, but definitely not angry.  Honestly, I’m cautiously looking forward to helping you raise your children if you allow me to help.”

She beams against my finger before pulling back slightly and telling me, “I definitely want you to help.  I think it’ll be good for all three of you.  You’ll get a son and a daughter, and my babies will have a strong father.”

Shaking my head firmly, I tell her, “They’re not mine.  I wouldn’t dream of trying to replace their father.”

She pats my hand with hers and says, “Which is why I intend to raise them believing they have two dads.  Josh will always be their father, but there is plenty of room in a child’s heart for a second father, particularly considering Josh is dead, and you are very much here and able to help raise them.  I know we’re not in a romantic relationship, Josef, but I can’t raise them on my own, especially because I’m now a part of your world.  I’ll need help navigating us through the twists and turns of vampire society and who better to assist me through the quagmire that is the supernatural world than a 5,408-years-old vampire.  Unless you don’t want to be—”

I place my finger back on her lips and tell her, “I’ve never had children before, but I find I’m open to the idea.”

She nods with a bright smile on her face before snuggling into my chest more firmly.

My maker grins, which is a rare thing and probably in reaction to the picture we make, before he says, “There, now that it’s settled that our line will be getting three additions instead of one we will go and let you both absorb this news.  However, I do need you to work on our mystery as soon as possible.”

Beth grins and rubs her cheek against my shoulder before telling him, “Once I eat, I’d like to go see if we can track down Hank Bishop like we planned to do before I got poisoned.”

He tips his head in acknowledgment and says, “Good.  Don’t push yourself too hard now that you know you have two additional lives counting on your health and well-being but if you manage to learn anything new, I wish for you both to call me tonight and keep me abreast of any clues you uncover.”

Beth’s shoulders relax before she says, “Of course, Grandsire, if we’re lucky you might even notice something we don’t.”

He bows a degree and then says, “Until tonight then,” after which he turns and leaves, and Luisa and Spencer follow him out the door. 

Just before Spencer reaches the door, he glances at me over his shoulder and winks at me twice, which is a code we came up with many centuries ago and means he not only approves of Beth but he’s happy for us about this latest twist in our saga.  I grin at him, and he smirks back before striding out the door.

Beth waves and calls out, “Um, it was nice meeting you.”

Spencer’s chuckles echo through the halls of my home loud enough that even Beth can hear them, which causes her to grin an ear to ear smile before she sits up and begins eating.

I stroke Beth’s back while she eats and then I glance at Daphne and ask, “What should we do about Beth’s car?  We believe the poison was picked up from her steering wheel.”

The doctor scratches her chin and then says, “If Beth doesn’t mind, I’ll take it with me and clean it and then return it by morning.”

Beth shrugs while she eats, so I incline my head and tell Daphne, “Thank you, old friend, you saved us tonight.”

She beams at me and says, “And I’m one tiny step closer to repaying the unpayable debt I owe you.”

With a chuckle, I tell her, “I’ve told you before the debt was paid centuries ago.”

She puts her hands on her hips before saying, “Not by my way of thinking and in this matter my opinion is the one that counts because it’s my family’s honor at stake.”

I don’t argue the point because she’s right it’s her opinion that matters.  She raises an eyebrow back at me and then says, “I have a suggestion, and I’m not sure how either of you will take it.  I think the two of you should mutually exchange blood every day, twice if possible but as much as three times, daily.”

My eyes widen at that, and it takes me a minute to respond before I say, “Daphne if we mutually exchange three times in a single day, a blood bond will be formed, and the bond will get stronger the more we mutually exchange after it’s formed.”

She lets out a long exhale and then says, “I know, but it’ll help connect the four of you.  You currently have no physical tie to these children, but if the four of you exchange blood every day while she’s pregnant, you will essentially be these children’s father by the time they’re born.”

That is appealing to me, but there is something else to consider, “Daphne, the idea of having a tie to her children is appealing to me in ways I can’t even express right now.  However, if we form a permanent blood bond, and then I turn her, although, I’ll eventually be able to release her from my Maker’s Command, we won’t be able to be far apart for much more than a day, maybe two, at most, and the effect would be permanent.”

Daphne’s shoulders are back, and her fingers rhythmically tap against the top of my desk while she tells us, “I know, which is why I’m suggesting it and not presenting it as doctor’s orders.  I think the benefits would far outweigh the pitfalls, so I want you both to discuss it and see if you think you can live with each other in such close proximity for the rest of eternity.”

Beth and I both meet each other’s eyes, and her brow raises, but then another thought occurs to me, so I ask, “Doctor, if Beth and I bond while she’s pregnant, wouldn’t that also form a blood bond with the children?”

She smiles and tells me, “It will indeed and, let’s face it, babies in the vampire world will need all of the advantages they can get, and this will be a great boon to all of you.”

I sit back and just consider the situation.  I’m willing if Beth is, but I think we need to discuss it in private before we go making any final decisions.

Daphne gives a gentle grin and says, “There’s one more thing.  Beth’s children aren’t human, and neither is she.  My best guess is the father was a full-blooded shifter, supernatural supreme to be specific.”

That solves our mystery as to the identity of the shifter Mick and I could smell in Beth’s apartment.  It also explains why the scent is old and fading. 

Beth sits up straight at that and puts down her sandwich before asking with a bit of a bite in her tone, “What?  Josh was completely human.  Mick met him, and, Josef, you said Mick didn’t know who the shifter that’s been in my apartment is.  If it was Josh, wouldn’t Mick have known that?  Plus, how can I not be human?  Wouldn’t I know that, too?”

Daphne pats Beth’s hand and tells her, “I noticed your heritage while I was examining you and the fact Josef fed you his blood twice just now will wake up any dormant powers.  Someone bound your abilities, tightly when you were a small child.  If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say they renewed the binding once you reached puberty.”

She shrugs one stocky shoulder and says, “Josef’s blood has weakened the binding, and while I’m only suggesting you form a permanent blood bond, I _am_ ordering you as your doctor to drink Josef’s blood at least twice every day.  It’s up to you both if you mutually exchange, but Beth needs to drink your blood either way.  Her continued consumption of your blood throughout her pregnancy and breastfeeding will most definitely shatter the binding.  Though, to be honest, it’ll happen long before the pregnancy is over, but continuing the feedings will help stabilize her power because it’s the power of a 26-year old who has never had access to it, so at first, it will be unstable like a child’s normally would be, only much more powerful.  Drinking your blood should reduce that effect dramatically.”

That’s good news, but then I raise my eyebrows and ask, “What species is she and what sort of powers do you expect she and the children will have?”

Daphne rubs her chin with her pointer and index fingers and says, “Near as I can tell she’s half air faerie and half demon.  It’ll be a powerful combination because demons have an affinity for fire and air makes fire stronger and vice versa.  As for their projected abilities, most air faeries have strong magickal abilities, while most demons have strong mental abilities particularly the control of fire and energy.  We’ll have to wait and see what abilities they all will have for certain, but I’ve known a few telepaths, empaths, and mimics from the demon branch of the faerie realm and they are almost always pyrokinetic.”

She smirks and continues, “Faeries themselves are best known for their magic.  Either way, they’ll all undoubtedly be able to control both magic and fire, the latter of which will work to both of your benefits and make you both immune to it if you mutually exchange and form a blood bond.”

She grins and then tells us, “Then there’s the children.  They will be able to shift into any creature they choose once they reach puberty.  If you feed her your blood twice every day, they might shift sooner than puberty, but I’m not sure how much sooner.  I’ve seen the bonded’s of vampires give birth to shifter children who also had a bond with the vampire and the child could shift anywhere from a few weeks after birth to a few years before puberty hit.  It really depends on the strength and power inherent in all four of you.”

She pauses and then pats Beth’s hand and says, “For the record, I think the four of you are powerhouses on your own.  Combine your power, Josef, with that of Beth, her babies and their father and, well, if I were a betting woman I’d say they’ll be able to shift before they hit three years old, maybe much sooner if their father was as strong as my reading suggests he was.”

Beth sits straighter in my lap and asks, “But wouldn’t I have known if Josh could do that?”

Daphne gives a gentle smile and asks, “You mentioned St. John meeting him but because of the type of shifter the father was he would have been able to make himself smell human.  Did the two of you ever spend time together on the nights of the full moon?”

Beth sits still for a minute and then swings her head back and forth again before saying, “No.  I actually used to joke about him possibly being a werewolf because he always had mysterious meetings and trips on the three nights of the full moon.  That was before I even knew vampires were real, though, and I only found out about the two-natured a few days ago.  Why didn’t he tell me?  And can shifters heal like vampires?  If so, why wouldn’t he have done that instead of dying?”

I can guess the answer to the first question, so I turn her face to look at me and tell her, “First, shifters unlike were animals are typically solitary creatures.  They don’t have packs.  Second, Mick told me you discovered Josh was planning to ask you to marry him, correct?”

She nods slowly, so I give her a tender smile back and tell her, “My guess is he planned to tell you then after you had said yes.  Just like telling humans about vampires is dangerous and tricky at best, the same is true for the two-natured.  That’s even more true for the two-natured because unlike vampires they can’t glamour the person to forget if they react badly to the news.  I know you a fraction as well as he did, and even _I_ know you would accept him no matter what, so my guess is he didn’t want to change your whole worldview unless absolutely necessary, i.e., if you agreed to spend the rest of your lives together and possibly start a family together.”

She wipes at her eyes and says, “Okay, I guess either way I can’t be mad at him because I was keeping secrets too, although, the secret I was keeping wasn’t really mine to tell.”

I stroke her cheek and tell her, “I’m certain if he had a ring, he fully intended to tell you.”

She nods and then snuggles into my chest.  Daphne puckers her brow and says, “As for him healing, he was a Supreme Supernatural Shifter so technically he could have shifted into a vampire to heal his wounds quickly, but it would have depended on how he died and more precisely, how injured he was.  The more traumatic an injury, the harder it is for a shifter of any kind to shift into another form.  I’ve heard of shifters hit by cars while in their animal form who were unable to shift back to their human form for hours.  Now, I don’t know the circumstances of the father’s death, but if it hurt enough to distract him, he wouldn’t have been able to shift even to save his life.  Plus, if there was blood loss that would weaken him and make shifting more difficult, too.”

Beth nods and tells Daphne, “Josh was the Deputy D.A., and he was prosecuting, Chemma Tejada, the kingpin of Los Hermanos en Muerte, also known as the HEM Brotherhood, who ordered him kidnapped.  One of his kidnappers shot him three times.  One bullet hit his carotid, and another severed his femoral artery.  He died in a matter of minutes from blood loss.”

Daphne narrows and then widens her eyes before saying, “It sounds like his injuries would have been substantial enough to keep him from shifting, especially with the damage the trauma of being shot would have done to his psyche.  Fear can easily contribute to people’s deaths.  Sometimes fear helps, but typically, it hinders and makes death more probable.  Take someone running from a wild animal for instance.  They run because they’re scared but running invokes the animal’s predator instincts and makes the animal more prone to attack than they would have been if the person remained calm and still.  I’d guess the fear caused by being shot three times would be enough to hinder survival in even the best of circumstances, and that doesn’t even consider what happened to him before being shot, and in that sort of scenario being shot is commonly the end of the ordeal, not the start.”

Beth sniffles and furrows her brows before telling Daphne, “He was hit over the head with a pistol and then tied up and dumped into the trunk of a car.  Mick and I gave chase and rescued him, but during the rescue, one of his kidnappers shot him.”

Daphne pats Beth’s hand and says, “My condolences child.  I’m sure it was difficult to witness.  If you find you need help dealing with the psychological aftermath, give me a call.  I know of a few therapists who specialize in supernatural clients.”

Beth and I both nod and Beth says, “I might take you up on that offer.”

Daphne takes in a slow breath and then says, “Good.  Now, because you’re half-faerie and half-demon I suspect your children will be powerful just in that sense but throw in the ability to shift and they’re going to be powerhouses all on their own.”

A thought occurs to me, so I ask, “Doctor if Beth is half faerie, will my drinking her blood cause me to lose control or get drunk like drinking from a full-blooded faerie would?”

She smiles but waves her hand in front of herself as though she’s batting away the idea and says, “No, demon blood is used as an antidote to faerie blood to calm vampires from their bloodlust, and it erases the drunk effect almost immediately after being consumed.  The fact she’s both equally means you’ll get all the benefits of drinking from both a faerie and a demon but none of the negative side effects.  The faerie will also make the demon part of her blood taste pleasant instead of horrible like pure demon blood normally tastes.  I suspect her mixed heritage is why St. John healed so quickly after his stroll through the desert back in late September.  When you had me examine him, I felt it best not to tell him he had drunk from a half-air faerie/half-demon hybrid.”

I release a heavy breath and tell her, “It might have helped in the long run if he knew she’s not human.”

Daphne shakes her head and says, “He would object to her turning either way.”

I suppose she’s right about that, so I just shrug.

She narrows her eyes and then asks, “Do either of you have any other questions?”

We pause, and I think over what I’ve learned in the last hour before we both swing our heads from side to side, so she says, “Good, Josef, give Beth my personal phone number as well as the number for my office.  If either of you thinks of any questions in the future, don’t hesitate to call me.  Given the lack of human DNA involved in this pregnancy, I suspect it’d be best not to involve human doctors, so unless either of you objects, I’ll act as Beth’s doctor going forward.”

Beth places her hand over Daphne’s where it’s resting on my desk and says, “I’d like that Doctor.  I figure you’ll know more about the dangers I’ll be in, and thank you, I appreciate everything, including your willingness to take us on as patients.”

Daphne beams at Beth, which is almost as rare as my maker grinning, before she says, “My pleasure, Dear, now, because you’re part faerie I suggest you avoid most citrus because full-blooded faeries are deathly allergic to lemons.  Better safe than sorry, I say.”

Beth’s eyes widen, but she gives a slow nod, so Daphne continues, “I’ll peek in on you in a day or two to make sure there are no negative effects from the Belladonna and silver poisoning.”

Beth and I both let out slow breaths at the reminder of the close call we just had, but we don’t contradict Daphne, so she nods and says, “Good, that’s settled then.  When you do end up turning I’d like to be present, or in the house at least when it happens.  I’d also suggest I scan you first to make sure you don’t have any silver in your system.  It’s a blessing in disguise you were poisoned with Belladonna, or you might have ended up like Sarah.”

Goddess.  It would have destroyed me if that had happened.

Daphne barely shrugs and says, “I’ve found that all of the turns that fail have silver in their systems.”  She glances at me and says, “Based on your reaction immediately afterward to having drunk Sarah’s blood I’d say the amount was minimal but apparently enough to interfere with her turning.  The process that makes you a vampire essentially freezes your body, so the silver is still in her system, thus preventing her from waking.”

I narrow my eyes, so she shrugs and tells me, “I’m now searching for ways to clear the silver from an essentially frozen system and see if we can figure out how to wake her after that.”

I release a slow breath and tell her, “Whatever you need, Doctor, for Beth _or_ Sarah, just let me know.”

Her muscles visibly relax as though she feared I’d place restrictions on what she can do for my youngest childer and my future progeny before she says, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She pauses then adds, “Josef, small sips at first if you drink from Beth to make sure the silver in her system won’t hurt you.  The antidote for the Belladonna should help clear the silver quicker than if we just waited for her body to expunge it naturally, so you should be safe by tomorrow morning.  Furthermore, Beth keep an eye on your food in public and don’t accept anything to eat or drink from anyone you don’t explicitly trust, not even St. John.”

Beth exhales a loud sigh but says, “I will, Doctor.”

Daphne gives a slow nod and then says, “Good, I’ll be in touch then,” just before teleporting out of my house.


	9. Always Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has more quotes and paraphrasing from Moonlight. I think most, if not all of them, come from episode 16, ‘Sonata.’ I still don’t own those words. They belong to the copyright holders of all things Moonlight.

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Chapter 009**

**Always Trouble**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Friday, February 01, 2008; 8:20 p.m. PST**

**Josef’s Home, Beverly House, Beverly Hills, California**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

After Daphne leaves, Beth goes back to eating her dinner.  I glance over at Rider, who is studiously working on his computer but has a wide grin splitting his face.  I smile myself before telling him, “Rider, I need you not to share the knowledge of what Beth is until after we’ve decided who should and should not know.”

He turns to gaze at me and shakes his head just a bit before telling me, “I wouldn’t speak out of turn anyway, Sire.  Um, congratulations to both of you on the twins thing.  It’s been a while since I’ve been around little ones, but if I can help in any way, just let me know.”

Beth and I both nod, so Rider goes back to working on the phone he has hooked up to his computer.  A few minutes later he releases a bark of laughter and says, “Gotcha.”  He turns his body to face me and says, “Master, the phone used to text the two weres their marching orders is still active and is just outside of San Diego, which, if you’ll recall, is where the bank Mick took money out of is located.”

Beth sits straighter and says, “He’s in San Diego?”

Rider inclines his head, so she tilts hers and says, “His mother was originally from San Diego.  Maybe check her old address, or I think I still have the file on Mick on my laptop, so I’ll get it before we go searching for Hank and you can go through it all and see if any of my background info I got right after I met Mick will help you.”

Rider’s brows furrow, and I frown and ask, “You researched Mick?”

She takes a bite of her food and chews before swallowing and then saying, “During the whole Lee Jay thing I was investigating his supposed father.  Then when I discovered he was a vampire I wanted to know everything I could about him for my own safety, so I kept track of all the personal details he told me and used them to build a history.  I had my own hacker friend put major security on my laptop when I started looking into Mick just to keep Josh from snooping.  I may have wanted to know everything I could about Mick, but I wasn’t willing to risk Josh discovering his secret, though, I suppose if Josh was a shifter then he knew what Mick was.”

I squeeze my arm that’s curled over her hips tighter around her and say, “It could explain why they didn’t particularly care for each other besides their mutual interest in you.  Vampires and the two-natured occasionally work together if their interests overlap, but as a rule, we don’t tend to like each other all that much.  Some have proven their worth to me, and I’d even go so far as to call them my friends but when we first met I didn’t think very highly of them.  It wasn’t until they proved themselves that I began considering them worthy of my consideration.”

Beth finishes eating and then pushes her plate away from her, so I turn her on my lap and stare into her eyes before asking, “How do you feel, Childe?”

She frowns and says, “Physically, better, but emotionally and mentally, I feel betrayed and happy all at the same time.  Is there any chance it wasn’t Mick?”

I release a heavy sigh and tell her, “He and I both have numerous enemies, but the timing makes me inclined to believe it’s him who is responsible for the attempt on your life.  In fact,” I take my phone off my desk where I placed it earlier and text Celeste, “Any word from our Maker or any of your contacts on Mick’s plans or whether he is anticipating Beth’s demise?”

I wait a minute before a text comes back, “Will call you in a minute.”

I show my text and Celeste’s reply to Beth.  While we wait we just sit in companionable silence, both probably trying to absorb the idea that at this very moment there are two tiny people tucked safely inside Beth. 

I find even mere minutes after discovering their existence I’m already attached to the little rugrats.  The only thing more important to me than their safety is the safety and well-being of their mother.

I’m looking forward to watching them grow inside Beth and then helping to raise them once they’re born.  Someone has just given me almost everything I’ve ever wanted but thought I could never have.  The only desire I’ve had that I won’t be fulfilling is that they’re not born of my seed.  That said, every other wish I ever thought was beyond my grasp has just been handed to me, and if Beth agrees to a blood bond, then my bond with the children will be even stronger than if they were mine biologically.  And let’s face it, the children are each one-half supernatural supreme shifter, and one-quarter each of air faerie and demon.  The gifts they’ll have due to being a hybrid will make them stronger than if they were my biological children.  Throw in a possible blood bond, and they’ll be unstoppable.

Beth clears her throat and asks, “Um, who were the two vamps who stayed in the room when the doctor told us about the babies?  I gather they’re highly trusted because Jorge allowed them to remain in the room.”

I use my arm around her and squeeze her gently before saying, “They are extremely trusted.  The woman is Luisa Prescott.  She’s my maker’s head enforcer.  I met her for the first time in 1752 B.C.E., and she was at least a few decades old at the time, but I don’t know exactly how old she is.”

Beth’s leaning into my body with her own, so I grin and tell her, “And the man is my youngest blood-brother, Spencer Stillwell.  I’ve known him for 610 years.  He was born 634 years ago, and an enemy of our maker kidnapped him 6 centuries ago when he had been a vampire for just 10 years.  Jorge handing down punishments to the misbehaving vampires of the world in his job as Magister has always come with risks to his childer, but we never expected Jorge’s own blood-brother, Appius, to attack us even after Jorge ruled against him.  Now, in the last six centuries, we are more vigilant in deciding whom we trust.”

I expel a heavy sigh and tell her, “After the verdict was read, Appius escaped and then kidnapped Spencer and put him in a vat of seawater.”

My teeth grind at the memory of Jorge and I finding Spencer submerged in saltwater after an eight-hour-long wild goose chase.

I squeeze my arm around Beth a little tighter and tell her, “Anyway, he was only under water for eight hours, but magic from a witch whose family Appius threatened made the effect the same as it would have been if the submersion lasted for eight centuries.” 

Beth’s eyes widen at that before she asks, “Eight-hundred years in seawater?  Is that why he’s so wrinkled?”

I release a deep breath and tell her, “Yes, and he’s exceptionally hypersensitive when it comes to his appearance, and he hates all reminders of those terrifying eight centuries and the lasting results.  Unfortunately, he knows it’s in the forefront of my mind because in 1896, in a moment of weakness, I confided in him that every time I see him, I want to hunt down Appius all over again.  Every time my eyes land on Spencer, I want to torture the son of a bitch for longer than the century I got before my maker allowed Spencer to have two centuries putting the bastard through the ringer.  Anyway, Celeste got the century before me and our younger blood-brothers, Saúl and Q, have been jointly entertaining Appius for the last two centuries.”

Beth rests her cheek against my shoulder and wraps her arms around me before I tell her, “Soon Q will bring him to Jorge who will kill him but only after our maker spends at least another two centuries torturing him, so he will suffer for the same amount of time he tortured Spencer.  I’m hoping when Jorge gets custody of Appius again, I can talk my sire into once again giving me an outlet for my continued anger on Spencer's behalf.”

Beth moves her head against my chest in agreement, so I say, “Anyway, while submerged the magic affected his whole body and his mind as well as all his senses and abilities.  So, although he’s technically only 634 years old, he’s got the power, capabilities, and terrifying memories of a vampire who is 1,434 years old, one, who, through no fault of his own, found himself in the dark, utterly alone for eight centuries.”

I sigh again and then tell her, “As you may have figured out his vampire gift is an enhanced sense of smell, so although his nose appears to be a regular nose, it was much more sensitive than the nose of an average vampire twice his age before the kidnapping.  Now, it’s better than a vamp three times his age, which is why Jorge had Spencer inspecting your car.”

She doesn’t say anything, but she does tighten her hold on me before my phone rings.  It’s Celeste, so I drag my thoughts back to the matter at hand and press send and then hit the speaker-phone button.  Before she says anything, I tell her, “Sister, you are on speaker-phone, so Beth can hear you as well.”

I can hear the smile in her tone of voice when she says, “Greetings future niece of mine.”

Beth giggles and says, “Greetings back future aunt of mine.  May I call you Celeste or is there something else you’d prefer I call you?”

They both laugh and then Celeste says, “You may call me Celeste.”

Beth chuckles until Celeste continues and says, “I’m afraid I have unwelcome news, Josef, by way of my nephew Rider.  He’s been tracking Mick as you know, but when Rider mentioned San Diego, well, our good friend Henry is currently living there, so I’ve had him sniffing around.  He’s met Mick before, so he knows his scent, and he managed to track him to the local library at one point before he lost his scent again.  However, he accessed the security footage from the library and saw Mick used one of the computers while there.  I used the skills Rider taught me and helped Henry get through their security, and we discovered Mick checked for deaths of 26-year-old Caucasian women in L.A.  He ran a check for Beth’s name and cross-referenced it with police reports, too.  If I were a betting woman, I’d wager Mick is expecting Beth to die and is just awaiting confirmation, which you might want to give him to lure him back.  He sounds obsessed enough he’d attend her funeral even with our sire searching for him.  He’s probably suicidal enough to disregard the genuine threat our sire poses.”

I lean back in my seat more fully and tell her, “You’re right about that.  We’ll have to think about the repercussions of staging her death, plus there are new complications I’m not comfortable discussing over the phone where anyone might hear us.”

I imagine she’s frowning when she says, “Of course, brother, probably a wise decision all around.  There are several vampires present in this building, and I’ve already heard whispers all the way out here in Shreveport about Josef Kostan siring a childe for the first time in centuries.  No one will shut up about Jorge ordering you to sire your best friend’s human.  It’s the stuff of legends, to be honest, but that kind of goes without saying because you are, in fact, legendary among our kind, and this will only add to your mystique.  The rumor mill is running rampant, and it is aware Beth was originally Mick’s human, but you feel the pull towards her and would have gone over Mick’s head eventually, which means you might get your enemies _and_ his thinking she’s an easy target.”

I wasn’t planning to half-ass her security especially now we know Beth is pregnant, so I’m confident we’re prepared for most threats.  If I have my way, and I fully intend to, she won’t be going anywhere alone until well after the babies are born and she turns.

I’m nodding, but I narrow my eyes and run my hand through my hair when she says, “Eric says his vampires can’t stop talking about Beth or the fact our sire has called a blood-hunt on Mick.  Everyone’s surprised your best friend wouldn’t know better than to disobey Jorge’s direct orders.”

I’m a little surprised he didn’t know better, too, but I don’t say anything, so she says, “I feel I should warn you both.  Our sire will not take kindly to Mick trying to kill his future grandchilde, so he will add to Mick’s punishments.  I hate to say it, but I’m not sure young Mick will survive this particular crime.  If she weren’t to be of Jorge’s line, maybe he’d overlook the attempted murder of a future childe enough not to end the vampire responsible.  However, she _is_ to be of our line, Josef, so the chances are good our maker will take particular exception to his actions against one of ours.”

I smile despite the topic because she’s showing me by her use of the word ‘our’ that she already considers Beth to be family.  I kiss Beth’s forehead and then ask Celeste, “How would you suggest I go about asking our maker not to kill him.  I don’t want to speak for Beth, but although I’m angry with Mick, I don’t want him ended.”

Beth leans against me and says, “What he said.”

Celeste sighs and tells us, “At the risk of breaking a confidence, our maker is extremely impressed by and already unbelievably attached to your future childe.  He has high hopes for both of you, and I think you know just as well as I do, Josef, Jorge does not take kindly to attacks against those he considers his, and you’re both his by his way of looking at it.  I spoke to Godric earlier today, and he said even Roman is smitten.  Apparently, our maker was bragging about the phenomenal human about to enter their line.  According to Godric, Roman went on and on about how excited he is, and he hopes you bring her to meet him soon.”

Beth holds her hand up like she’s a student in a classroom and when I nod she asks, “Uh, I think I remember Josef saying Roman is Jorge’s maker, but who is Godric?”

Celeste laughs and says, “Roman is, in fact, our maker’s sire, and Godric is the childe of our maker’s younger blood brother, Appius.  Even though Godric is younger than us, he’s still just over 2,150 years old so the term younger can be misleading.  Anyway, I think I mentioned Eric earlier.  He’s the sheriff here in Shreveport, which is part of Louisiana’s Area Five, and he is Godric’s oldest surviving childe.  Eric also has a childe of his own named Pamela.  Godric’s sire is a cruel bastard, and, although Godric was already close to 1,500 years old when Jorge and Josef captured Appius for kidnapping and torturing our blood-brother, Spencer, our maker became close to Godric and took over as his adopted sire of sorts.  Now, they act like Godric is Jorge’s childe, and, honestly, I think everyone involved wishes it were true.  Anyway, as a result, Josef, our siblings, and I are all close with Godric, Eric, and Pam as well.”

I grin and tell Beth, “Eric is another one I talk to most days.  He’s just under four millennia younger than me, but he is the vampire closest to my equal despite our age difference.”

I snigger when I hear Eric say, “Thank you, cousin.  I think you overestimate my worth and value but thank you for doing so.”

I kiss Beth’s head and tell her what he said because it was too low for her to hear.  She snickers and says, “Uh, hello, future cousin, uh, what’s your last name?  I’ll call you that because your given name is above my station currently.”

He chuckles, and his voice comes through the line loud enough for Beth to hear when he says, “I see the stories are not grossly exaggerated.  I’m impressed Ms. Turner, and you should know it’s rare for a human to impress me enough to admit it out loud.  And you have leave to call me Eric, though, for future reference my last name is Northman.”

Beth smiles and says, “Thank you, Eric, I’m honored to be allowed to be so familiar with you.  You may call me Beth if you want.  Uh, out of curiosity if you’re just under four millennia younger than Josef and your last name is Northman, are you a Viking?”

He lets loose boisterous laughter, and then after he calms, he says under his breath, “Not exaggerated at all.”  Louder he says, “Yes, I was a Viking.”

Celeste speaks up then and says, “Josef, the three of you will need to finish discussing Eric’s heritage at another time because our maker is calling, so I’m going to let you both go.  I think San Diego is in my immediate future.  I’ll call and warn you what our maker decides before I carry out his orders.  If possible, I’ll make sure you both at the very least get a chance to say goodbye if I’m ordered to end Mick.  I hope it won’t come to that, but realistically I think it might.”

I think it might, too, so I tell her, “Thank you, Sister.”

I can hear her smile when she says, “You’re welcome, Brother.  It was lovely speaking with you, Future Niece.”

I end the call and then glance at Beth and ask, “How are you feeling?”

She shrugs and says, “Considering I just survived an assassination attempt I think I’m feeling good, well physically at least.”

She pauses and then says, “He really tried to kill me, right?  I’m not trapped in some awful nightmare?”

I frown but shake my head and tell her, “It is a nightmare for sure, but you’re not asleep, and it’s really happening.”

With a sigh she bows her head and then asks, “Josef, how did he conclude killing me is the answer.  I mean I get he thinks he’s a monster and he doesn’t want me to become like he was but how can he think it’s acceptable to kill me?  Who does that?”

I sigh and cup her cheek before telling her, “He’s not well, Beth.  He hasn’t been since Coraline took you and maybe even before that.  I thought he was better once I taught him how to live feed, but I’m beginning to think it might have all been a carefully constructed ruse to keep me from nagging.  Not that he and I had a habit of nagging each other, but in the beginning, he wouldn’t have known I wasn’t a nagger, so he might have started pretending he was fine to keep me at arm’s length and then he never stopped.  Either way, it’s like I told you this morning.  He does not see things clearly.  He thinks becoming a vampire is the worst thing that can happen to you, not realizing dying would actually be worse.”

Her brow is furrowed slightly, so I incline my head and tell her, “You need to prepare yourself, Beth.  I’m not sure Jorge will let the attempt on your life pass without inflicting serious harm on Mick, but more than that, if he’s willing to kill you, then I’m sure his end game is his own death.  I mentioned before I thought he might have been planning to kill himself once you grew old and died surrounded by grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  You have been his reason for living since you were four years old.  If he’s planning to kill you, then it’s highly likely he expects his punishment will be his own death, and I think he’s okay with that.  He’s overlooking the fact Jorge is going to probably torture him for years, if not centuries, first before he grants him his wish and kills him, but I think he’s angling for, I believe you humans call it, suicide by cop.”

She sighs and says, “There’s nothing we can do to save him is there?  Even if there was he doesn’t want to be saved and would throw any effort we made to keep him alive back in our faces.”

I nod and tell her, “I’m afraid so, Beth.”  I pause, then add, “I’m sorry.”

She frowns and asks, “What are sorry for specifically?”

I narrow my eyes and tip my head back and stare at the ceiling before letting out a long breath and telling her, “A whole mess of things including but not limited to a.) allowing Mick to kill Anders in the first place.  b.) Letting Mick get out of my limo without a stake in his chest so I could send him to Celeste immediately.  c.) The fact your friend, whom I know you had growing feelings for, just tried to kill you.”

She puts her soft, warm hands on my cheeks and tilts my face before looking me right in the eye and telling me, “None of this is your fault, Josef.  Mick’s choices are just that, _his_.  He chose to kill Anders.  Hell, rescuing Ben and me isn’t the issue.  Mick chopped off Anders’ head _after_ we were safe.  He did that on his own, and you had nothing to do with it.  I saw your expression when he did it.  You were clearly surprised, and then your face went cold, and now that I know the rules of your world I imagine you were exceedingly angry.”

I shrug so she squeezes her arm around me a bit more and then gently says, “As for not staking Mick and sticking him on the first plane to Louisiana, well, you had a reasonable expectation that Mick would obey just based on the enormous level of stupidity required to openly oppose Jorge.  You said it earlier, Mick’s been hiding his self-destructive thoughts from you since you met.”

She tightens her grip on my cheeks and tells me, “Then in terms of Mick trying to kill me, well, again his choices are his alone.  You have done nothing but protect me from the moment Jorge handed down his verdict.  You are not responsible for Mick and don’t give me the ‘He’s my childe’ crap either, we both know that’s new, and he doesn’t listen even when he should, so you have no responsibility in that sense.”

I shake my head as much as her hands on my cheeks will allow but she just gives a sharp nod and says, “It’s true, Josef, and not only do I not blame you, but I forgive you for whatever faults you think are your responsibility.  You are the future maker of Beth Turner, and I won’t have you blaming yourself for Mick’s stupidity.  He’s his own man, and so are you.  He’s acting without honor while you have done everything with honor and respect to all involved.  I order you to stop and look at it from the outside.  It’s not your fault, none of it is.  Understood?”

I resist the urge to chuckle at her ordering me to do anything, but I know she won’t take my laughter well, so I hold it in, barely, and just grin before telling her, “Understood.  It might be a while before I agree with you, but I do understand everything you just said, and it’s all valid.  I just need to wrap my head around it first.”

She squeezes my cheeks slightly before pulling her hands away and saying, “Take all the time you need Josef, we have plenty.”

I do laugh at that and then hand her the previously untouched glass of water.  She grins wide enough I can see all her teeth before taking a sip of her drink.

When she pauses for breath I ask, “Do you feel up to following your lead or should we put it off until tomorrow?”

She swallows the last of her water and then shakes her head and says, “The trail might go cold if we wait any longer, so I think we should go tonight.  I think I’ll be alright.  Although, I wouldn’t mind going to bed as early as possible.”

I snicker and then slide her off my lap.  She places her hands on top of mine on her hips and just stands there for a second.  A moment later she nods twice and says, “I think I’m good for now.”

I stand behind her, and after placing my hands on her shoulders, I squeeze gently and tell her, “I need you to tell me if you need to stop and rest or if we need to come home, okay?  No one, not even my maker, will think less of you if you need to stop early.”

She reaches up and pats my hand still on her shoulder and says, “I’ll let you know, but I really do feel fine physically.  Emotionally I just want to curl up under the covers and cry myself to sleep, but that can wait until after we’ve found Hank Bishop.”

I nod, and then I glance at Rider who has remained quiet throughout our whole conversation and tell him, “Text me if you get any news.”

He smiles before saying, “Will do, Sire.”

I incline my head towards him and then I place my hand on the small of Beth’s back and direct her out of my office and towards the front door.  While we walk, she says, “Oh my laptop.  Can we stop in my room and then bring my computer to Rider, so he can review everything I have on Mick?”

I nod and guide her to her bedroom.  When we reach her room, she goes in, and I wait in the hallway.  I can hear her moving around in her room, and the rustle of fabric meets my ears a couple times.  Two minutes later she comes out in a tight pair of jeans and another button-down shirt, this one pale yellow with vertical white stripes.  She’s wearing a fitted black business jacket over it and strappy open-toed sandals.  Her purse and her computer bag hang over her shoulder, and she grins and says, “I hope you don’t mind, I kept wiping my hands on my pants earlier, and so I wanted to take them off as soon as possible, so I won’t accidentally poison myself.”

I smirk and tell her, “Probably a wise move to remove them.  I wish I had known, though, I wouldn’t have minded a little show.”

She snorts and then wiggles her eyebrows before saying, “Now, _I’m_ saying no for tonight.”

I chuckle and then sober and tell her, “In all seriousness, Beth, I wouldn’t try to sleep with you tonight either, not with the trauma you’ve undergone today.”

She sniggers and uses her hand to shove my shoulder gently before she says, “I know, I was just giving you a hard time.”

I snicker back and just reach over and grab her hand before leading her back to my office, and once there Beth tells Rider, “My username is BTurner1980, and my password is Anthr0pomor&PhiC37.”

Rider releases an excited burst of air and sits forward on his seat before he leans towards us and says, “Finally, someone in my life who doesn’t pick an easy password.”

We both titter for a moment before he says, “Sometime I’ll tell you all of the stupid password ideas I’ve had to shoot down over the years.  I think you’ll get a kick out of some of them.” 

Beth grins and tells him, “I look forward to that conversation, Rider.”

He just beams in response, so I incline my head at him and then after she grabs her water bottle off my desk where we forgot it, I walk her back out of my office and towards the central stairwell.  I smile a bit wider on the way towards the front of the house and tell her, “I know you said we need to be less conspicuous than a limo or a sports car, but I think we’re stuck with the sports car tonight.”

She giggles and tells me, “I suppose we’ll just have to make do with your overly flashy pimp-mobile.”

I snort and steer her through the front door, around the driveway and then into the garage.  After turning on the light when we enter, I glance at her in time to see her eyes widen before she asks, “Um, how many cars do you have in here Josef?”

There are 18 cars in my garage with room for 10 more.  I don’t tell Beth that, and, instead, I say, “Just a few, I have many more in storage.  Most of them are classics.”  That’s true, too.  I have over 1,000 automobiles the world over, basically every vehicle I’ve ever owned.  The only ones I’ve ever gotten rid of were the ones I wrecked if I got into an accident.  All the rest I store in garages and warehouses around the world.  I only have 109 here in L.A., though.

Guiding her to my red Ferrari, I open the passenger side door and help her slide into the leather seat.  While I saunter around to the driver’s side, she runs her hand over the leather and says, “In terms of being environmentally responsible I love my Prius, but this is a beautiful car, Josef.”

I grin while I get in, and once I’m settled, I flip down the visor and reveal the remote for the door and the gate.  I hit the left button on the clicker to open the garage door and then push the button beside it to open the gate.  I start the car and pull out of the garage before stopping at the end of the driveway and asking her, “So, where are we headed?”

She leans back in her seat and turns just her face to glance at me and says, “The Kappa Epsilon Sigma Fraternity House on Fraternity Row at Hearst.”

I nod and then pull out of the driveway and head towards the college.

We don’t talk on the ride over, but I can smell the faint hint of tears, so I reach over and take Beth’s hand into mine.  When I need to shift, I place her hand on the shift and then put mine over hers and change gears that way.

She smiles tremulously at me but whispers, “Thank you.”

I just squeeze her hand and keep driving.

When we arrive, I park and then hop out of the car and hurry at a human pace to her side of the vehicle before opening her door for her and giving her a hand out of the, lower than average, car.

She straightens her jacket before wiping the corners of her eyes and then surveying the area, her gaze lands on the house across the street before she says, “Here we go.”

I grab her hand and turn her to face me, keeping her from crossing the street, though, so I can tell her, “If you want to talk, Beth, know I am here for you.  Not only am I to be your maker, but I’m your friend.  I hope you know that.”

She gives a noncommittal shrug and then glances up from the ground she has been studiously inspecting and tells me, “I know, Josef.  I will come to you if I need to talk or vent or whatever.  Right now, I’m just trying to process it all.  The man I thought I was falling in love with, the man I was sure was in love with me just tried to kill me simply because he disagrees with decisions you and I are making.  Anyway I look at that, it’s screwed up, and I’m reminding myself over and over not to let Mick draw me into his issues.  He’s doing a decent job of trying to involve me, but I don’t want my life mixed up in the mess that is Mick St. John.”

She releases a deep, heavy exhale and then says, “If he hadn’t tried to kill me, I would want to help him any way I could but trying to kill me is a deal breaker.  He stopped being my friend and someone I would go out on a limb for the moment I found out it was him who probably planned my death.  Then, to top it all off, I’m pregnant with my murdered boyfriend’s babies, which Mick almost killed right along with me.  I can’t stop thinking about what would have happened if you had hesitated or hadn’t given me your blood.  My babies might have died.”

She’s been staring at my nose, but she gazes into my eyes and says, “Thank you for saving us, again.  God, you’re gonna get so tired of saving me all the time.”

Chuckling, I shake my head and then tell her, “I was serious when I said it’s my privilege and honor to protect you and that extends to your son and daughter as well.  I don’t think I could ever grow bored with anything having to do with you, and it’s certainly never boring when you’re involved, so I think it’s safe to say it’ll never get old.”

She giggles and asks, “You’ll tell me if I get annoying?”

I squeeze her hand that I’m still holding and tell her, “I promise.  I don’t have a shy bone in my body, so you’ll know pretty quickly if you upset or annoy me.”

She leans up and kisses my cheek before telling me, “Thank you.”

I just smile in return, so she tells me, “Anyway, I keep replaying the whole time in your office over and over.  I almost died and more importantly to me, my babies I didn’t even know exist almost died.  How can Mick claim to be my friend, to care for me, if he’s willing to kill me?”

Her eyes drift from mine to a spot over my shoulder, but then they return and meet mine before she says, “I mean I heard what you said about him not thinking clearly, but how can he think killing anyone is acceptable?  Especially when you consider why he thinks becoming a vampire is a terrible thing.  He thinks you’re all monsters who kill for sport, so how has he managed to justify killing me in his head when the whole point is killing is wrong.  How is my becoming a vampire intolerable but his committing the premeditated murder of an innocent is somehow acceptable in his book?  How does that work?  In what universe does that make any sense?”

A tear escapes her eye, so I pull her into my arms and hold her, not just to comfort her but to give me some comfort too.  I bury my face in her blonde curls, and after breathing in her natural scent mixed in with the aroma of her lavender and vanilla shampoo and body wash for a few moments, I tell her, “Remember when I said he’s not thinking clearly?”

When she nods against my shoulder, I continue my thought, “I still believe that 150%.  Mick’s operating under the assumption that turning you into a vampire would be ruining your life.  I fully believe his hatred of himself and what Coraline turned him into in the beginning is not only clouding his sound reason enough to cause him to behave in ways he wouldn’t normally, but it’s giving him skewed logic.”

She tightens her hold on my shoulders before I ask, “Is it messed up that I still love him even though I’m absolutely furious with him right now?”

She shakes her head and says, “No. I still care for him too, but sometimes love isn’t enough.  Sometimes a person crosses a line they can’t uncross, and the relationship is, not only never the same again but, for all intents and purposes, destroyed by the person’s actions.”

She pulls her face away from my shoulder and staring into my eyes again tells me, “I will always love him, but like I said earlier, he’s dead to me.  The Mick I knew and loved is gone forever, so it’s now the love I would have for someone who has passed.  I currently hope my future grandsire doesn’t order him ended but mostly I think that’s because I’m aware of myself enough to know his death will bring me guilt even though it’s not my fault at all.”

Cupping her cheeks, I lean down a little, so our eyes are level with each other and tell her, “None of this is your fault, Beth.  Mick and I are to blame.  I knew better than to kill Anders and I still let Mick do it.  If I had gone to Anders and presented myself as his Sheriff, he undoubtedly would have handed you and Talbot over to me, and none of this would be happening.  When it comes down to it, this is my fault for failing to protect Mick and you both.”

She cups my cheek in her warm, soft hand and tells me, “I still say it’s not either of our faults, but I forgive you, Josef.  You were trying to help Mick save me, and I know firsthand how persuasive Mick can be.  You did what you thought was best at the time and I don’t blame you for my needing to become a vampire.  Honestly, I don’t really blame anyone.  It just is, and provided I’m allowed to carry my babies to full term, or as close to it as my body will allow, and then breastfeed for as long as necessary then I’m okay with becoming a vampire.  I’m quite sure Mick knows that too, and _that’s_ why he finds it unacceptable.  I think if having to become ‘a monster’ tore me up inside, then he’d be more willing to accept it, but he knew me well enough to know it’s not the end of the world for me.  I think that’s what bothers him most, not that I’ll _be_ a vampire, but that I’m _agreeable_ with becoming a vampire.”

I place my hand over hers on my cheek and tell her, “I think you’re right.”

She frowns and then leans up and brushes her lips across mine before glancing away and saying, “At least I have you.”

I pull her back into my arms and tell her, “Ditto, Blondie.”

I release her a moment later and grin at the tiny smile on her face.  Taking her hand, I lead her across the street and into the Kappa Epsilon Sigma House.

Once inside, I cast my gaze around the room, and there are food wrappers scattered about, and a young couple is making out on a couch that smells of the sex of multiple people.  The whole house smells of cheap alcohol, sweat, sex, and urine.  I chuckle when Beth says under her breath, “God, I’ve already been poisoned once today so I should have thought ahead and brought my HAZMAT suit.”

I nod and then lean in and whisper, “We might need to take hot showers to disinfect ourselves after we leave here.  After all, we don’t want you or the little ones infected by,” I wave my hand around and then say, “This germ-filled laziness.”

She giggles, so I put my hand on the small of her back and guide her towards another room, but then a paddle hanging on the wall sidetracks me with the scents of hundreds of people on it.  I reach out to touch it before a kid who can’t be more than 20 years old hurries over to me from his Foosball game and says, “Hey don’t touch that.  It’s sacred.  Members only.”

I shrug and then tell him, “We’re looking for Hank Bishop.”

The kid narrows his eyes and asks, “And you are?”

Before I can respond or merely glamour the brat, Beth holds up her ID and says with a lilt to her voice and a bit of attitude I find remarkably appealing, “I’m Beth Turner from the D.A.’s Office.”

His eyes widen, and his heart begins to race before he says, “Then you already know what I told the police.  Hank hasn’t been around here in a while.  I really wish I could help you.  The guy owes me like 50 bucks.”

He’s rushing _and_ forcing his speech, and he won’t meet either of our eyes, so I don’t need to be a vampire to know he’s lying.  Still, I focus on his vitals when Beth asks, “How long since you last saw him?”

The kid studiously stares over my shoulder while he lies through his teeth and tells us, “Not since last semester.  He had a place in South Palms.  Maybe you should check over there.”

Taking a step closer to the kid, who likely hasn’t showered in days, I tell him, “You’re lying.  Where is he?”

Just then someone in the back of the house shouts, “Hank, the cops are here!”

I turn away from the lying kid for a second and glance towards where the voice came from and when I turn back the brat smacks me in the face with the sacred ass paddle before shouting, “Go, go, go, Hank, go!”

I grab the lapels of the kid’s flannel shirt and pull him in closer, but Beth’s voice outside saying “Hank, stop!” catches my attention so swatting the paddle away when he tries to hit me again I push the kid out of my way and head for the front door. 

When I get out there the kid from the dedication is hopping down off the roof of the porch, and then he’s headed my way.  I say, “Hank,” right before he swings at me.  Catching his hand mid-swing, I twist his arm and bring him to his knees.  Glaring down at him, I tell him, “Play nice.”

Beth rushes over to us and asks me, “You alright?”

Snickering I tell her, ““Yeah, well, I got hit in the face with the sacred ass paddle, but other than that I’m fine.”

She giggles and asks, “Karma maybe?  I bet you’ve broken enough hearts through the years to warrant a slap or two in the face by a sacred ass paddle.  I’m kind of surprised it hasn’t happened to you before now.”

Chuckling I ask her, “Who’s to say it hasn’t?”

She laughs and then takes out her phone and tries to place a call, but she frowns and says, “Dammit, Josef, my phone isn’t cooperating again.  Can I borrow yours?”

I grab my phone out of my pocket and hand it to her, before telling her, “The new 16 GB iPhone gets released on Tuesday, so I’m sensing a new phone in your immediate future.”

She snickers before saying, “It’s a lucky thing I remember Ben’s number,” then she dials and waits for him to pick up.

Twenty minutes later the cops have Hank in the back of a squad car and Talbot is standing in front of us asking, “Why is Mr. Kostan with you, Beth?”

She smiles and says, “Mick had to go out of town, and I was uncomfortable heading here alone.  Josef was available, so he brought me, plus I’m having car issues, so he drove, too.”

The A.D.A. crosses his arms over his chest and says, “Alright, I’m happy he was here, and you weren’t alone.  We’ll need to see about getting you a partner to team up with, so you won’t have to go anywhere by yourself.”

He pauses but then narrows his eyes and says, “And don’t think it’s because you’re a woman.  Most of the male investigators have partners, too, and the only reason I didn’t give you one is Mick seems to show up all the time, but if he’s out of town then at least until he gets back I’ll find someone to team up with you.”

That’s a brilliant idea and it being his idea will make it easier when it comes time to glamour those necessary to give Beth the partner of our choosing, so I tell him, “Mick had a family emergency, so he’s gone indefinitely.  I know I’ll rest easier if she’s not going into situations like this without someone else to back her up.”

He nods, and I start mentally reviewing the list I already compiled of candidates who work for the police or D.A.’s office who would be suitable partners for Beth.  We have several supes in both departments, so I’ll have to think about that and then make sure the right people are glamoured to make it happen.

Talbot glances over at Hank in the squad car and then looks back at us and asks, “Did Hank say anything of use?”

We both shake our heads and Beth tells him, “No, he refused to answer any of my questions.”

Talbot shifts on his feet and peeks over his shoulder at Hank sitting in the backseat of a cruiser again before saying, “Well, we’ll let the police take a crack at him, and you and I can go get some sleep, especially you because I know you’ve been running around interviewing multiple people in multiple locations all day.  If the police don’t get any answers out of him by tomorrow morning, I’ll take a crack.  Either way, I’ll call you as soon as we get something.”

She nods and grasps my hand before steering me towards my car.  A few steps away Talbot calls out, “Oh, and Beth?”

She turns halfway to glance at him, so he smiles and tells her, “Good work.”

Mick didn’t like Talbot at all, but I think he might not be so bad after all, particularly if he’s willing to validate Beth’s hard work.  She beams back at him before saying, “Thank you.  I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

He inclines his head and gives a little salute, and we head to my car.

The ride home is silent, but I’m holding her hand again.  This time I don’t smell any tears.  She’s slouched slightly in her seat, and her heart is beating nice and slow.  The rhythm belongs to a person who is calm and at peace for the moment.  Two minutes away from my house I ask, “Catching a person of interest no one else could find seems to have relaxed you.”

She snorts before saying, “It’s like my relationship with Mick just imploded, but at least I’m still good at my job.  I guess subconsciously I was afraid I’d suck at it without him by my side, which makes no sense because I’ve been investigating stories long before I even knew who Mick was.  Anyway, today has shown me I haven’t lost my touch.  Oh, that reminds me, I don’t know if it’s related to this case or not, but I got the sense from Emma Monaghan that she’s hiding something from me.  Whether she knows something about this case, or she’s hiding something vampire related she thinks I’d tell you, I have no idea, but you should sit down and have a talk with her soon and see if you can figure out what she’s hiding.”

I nod and tell her, “I will call her tomorrow and schedule a meeting for the next few days.  If you get any more insight into what she might be hiding let me know.”

She squeezes my hand and says, “Of course, Josef.  I’ll keep digging, and if I know something, you will know it just as soon as I can tell you.”

I chuckle just when I pull into my driveway, and once the gate opens, I drive the car into the garage and turn it off. 

Before either of us can get out of the car, her phone chooses to work and rings.  She takes it out of her purse and says, “It’s Guillermo.  I asked him to try to get me the sample from the blood smear they found on Dominic.”

She answers the phone and says, “Hello, Guillermo.”

He says, “Hey, Beth, I got the sample and smelled it like you asked me to and you were right, it’s not degraded, the coroner just doesn’t know vampire blood when he sees it.”

Her smile is lighting up her whole face before she says, “That’s great, thank you so much, Guillermo.  And the blood type is B+ right?  Does it being vampire blood effect the type at all?”

That’s an astute question so I’m grinning as broadly as she is when he says, “No, it being vampire blood shouldn’t affect the typing result.  The DNA is altered when a human becomes a vampire, but the type remains the same, and if you find me the Vamp it belongs to the DNA would match, it’s just the vampire’s old human DNA that wouldn’t match.”

She furrows her brow and then asks, “Can your noses pick up whose blood it is or is there any way to figure that out from the sample without submitting more vampire blood to the lab to test against it?  I’m guessing if it’s a vampire who killed Dominic we need to keep the human authorities from ever figuring out who’s responsible.”

I’m nodding, and I’m guessing Guillermo is too when he says, “If the vampire bled around me I could tell you it’s the same vamp.  Josef definitely could, but I don’t think even he could smell the sample and immediately know whose blood it is.  Our noses aren’t that precise.”

Her shoulders kind of sag and she frowns before saying, “Well, damn, that would have made life much easier.”

She turns and stares at me and says, “Josef, if it’s a vampire, then the only reason Hank would have run is if he witnessed it.  Now, he’s in custody.  This is bad, he could know the identity of the killer.  What do either of you suggest we do?”

Guillermo says, “Humans getting busy with vamps.  Always trouble.”  He pauses then adds, “Uh, no offense Beth.”

She giggles and says, “None taken, and hey turns out I’m not actually human so no worries.” 

Her eyes widen before she says, “Um, if you could not share that tidbit with anyone that’d be great.  Josef and I still need to figure out who should and shouldn’t know that information.”

I imagine he’s grinning before he says, “Of course, your business is just that yours and I won’t insert myself into it.  Besides, I know better than to talk out of turn about Josef or anyone associated with him.”

He pauses and then asks, “Josef, do you want me to try to get in to see this witness and glamour what he knows out of him and then make him forget?  I might have an easier job of it than you because I work for the coroner.”

I shake my head and tell him, “No, I have a guy in the police department.  I’ll call him momentarily and tell him to get us answers and then make the kid forget everything if a vampire is involved.”

Guillermo says, “Alright, just figured I’d offer.”

Even though I know he can hear me just fine with his vampire hearing, I lean towards the phone Beth is holding to her ear and tell him, “I appreciate the offer and won’t forget your willingness to help Beth or me _or_ your continued discretion.”

I can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Hey us vamps and, uh, future vamps, got to stick together.  Anyway, if that’s all, I’ve got to get back to work.  I just thought I shouldn’t wait until morning to tell you a vamp is involved.”

Beth and I both nod even though Guillermo can’t see it before we say at the same time, “Thank you.”

He says, “Sure thing,” and then hangs up.

I take out my phone and put it on speaker-phone before dialing Detective Murphy.  He’s at the top of my list for possible partners for Beth, and I’m sure he’ll have no problem doing what I need him to do tonight, so when he picks up, I tell him, “Murphy, Josef Kostan.  I have a situation I need you to deal with for me.”

I explain what’s going on and then he says, “I’ll see if I can get to him before they start questioning him.  Otherwise, I might have to wait until they’re taking a break.  My fellow vampires on the force and I have already glamoured our brothers in blue to ignore any mentions of the supernatural, so even if it takes me a few hours to get in to see him, it shouldn’t cause bigger issues.  I’ll call when I know what he knows.”

I run my free hand through my hair and tell him, “Thank you.  You can call this number when you have answers for me.”

He replies in the affirmative and then I hang up.

I gaze at Beth and then tell her, “Well, that’s all we can do for now.”

Her mouth opens in a jaw-popping yawn, so I get out of the car and hurry over to Beth’s door at vampire speed which causes her to giggle.  While I hold my hand down to her and help her out of the car, I say, “I think it’s time for someone to go to sleep.”

She nods slowly and then yawns again, so I direct her towards the house and then inside before stopping at the stairs and asking, “Are you hungry?”

She shakes her head and says, “No, I just want to sleep.”

I raise my eyebrow and tilt my head to the right before narrowing my eyes and asking, “Are you sure?  You barely ate anything all day, and you are now eating for three.”

She reaches up brushing my cheek with her hand before telling me, “I love how you worry, but I’m good.  I ate like three times what I usually eat in one sitting for dinner, so I should be good until morning.”

I narrow my eyes while I examine her, but I detect no lie in her words, so I tell her, “I’ll walk you to your room then.”

She loops her arm with mine, and we head up the stairs.  When we make it to her bedroom door, she stands on tiptoes and kisses my lips with a quick peck before turning and opening her door.  Before she can disappear into her room, I tell her, “I’d like to go with you tomorrow to do whatever you need to do.”

She looks me up and down and leans against her door before saying, “I won’t leave without you.”

I smirk and tell her, “You better not, then again, you have no car, so leaving me behind won’t be as easy as it might normally be.”

She giggles and then says, “Goodnight, Josef, sweet dreams.”

I tell her, “And the same for you, Blondie.”

She beams at me and then enters her room and closes the door.

I turn down the hallway and stroll to my room.  Although I got to sleep in my freezer for just over two hours this morning if I’m going to be out all day tomorrow during the day, then I need to spend some extra quality time in sub-zero temperatures.  Therefore, when I get to my room, I strip off my clothes, grab my phone out of my jeans pocket, and then head towards one of the bookcases in my room. 

Grabbing the book ‘The Sun Also Rises,’ I flip the switch behind it and step back when the hidden door cut into the bookcase opens revealing my freezer room.

I amble into the room and open the freezer door and sigh at the frigid air when it hits me, Goddess I need this.  Sleeping with Beth in my arms was wonderful, and I would jump at the chance to do it again, but little soothes me the way sub-zero temperatures do.  Climbing in I lay down and close the door. 

I bring my phone in front of my face, and then I call my maker and fill him in on everything we learned tonight about not only the case but Beth and Josh not being human, too.

The phone call only lasts 10 minutes, and at the end, he tells me, “Beth’s heritage will only make her a stronger vampire, and I’m more set in my decision to have you turn her than ever before because her actions and insight today have impressed me.  I don’t think most humans or more specifically most creatures who were raised believing they were human, would have thought to have a vampire check the blood sample to see if it was truly human in nature.”

I roll onto my side and then smirk when he says, “Call me when you have discovered which vampire failed to warn you of this looming disaster.  I will bring them up on charges for endangering our secret with their lack of action.”

Releasing a deep breath and flopping onto my back, I tell him, “I will.  The kid is being booked for fleeing the scene of a murder, so it might be a few hours before Murphy can get to him, but it should be soon enough to prevent disaster.”

I frown when he says, “I’m sure it will be.  You sound tired, childe, according to Dr. Ludwig, due to the magic involved, your exposure to the Belladonna, even the minuscule amount transferred from Beth’s hand to yours, will probably cause you to act like you’ve been exposed to too much sun, so go rest, and we will speak soon.”

With a sigh, I tell him, “Thank you, Sire, uh, when did you talk to Daphne?”

He chuckles and says, “I wanted to make sure three years of breastfeeding will be sufficient for the little ones, so I called her an hour ago.  She mentioned you’ll sleep much more than usual tonight but should feel fully restored by the time you wake up tomorrow.  Now, go rest.”

I shake my head and almost whine, “But I wanted to talk to you about Mick.”

Although he doesn’t comment on my whining, he does release a heavy sigh before he says, “I have decided to wait until tomorrow to make any decisions regarding St. John.  Fear not, Childe, I may be furious with him, but I will not order him ended without at least giving you and my future grandchilde the opportunity to not only weigh in on the matter but say goodbye if necessary.  Our people are searching for him as we speak, and Celeste is in the air on her way to San Diego and should be arriving in another hour.  Go rest, and, as I said, we will talk in the morning.”

I exhale a tremulous breath and tell him, “Thank you, Master.  I will call you as soon as I know something.”

He hangs up a moment later.  I plan to just lay in here all night even if I don’t fall asleep, so after setting my phone’s alarm to go off at 7 a.m., I lift the freezer door, place my phone on the bedside table beside the freezer, and then lay back down and close the door.  I sigh and close my eyes and despite the waning moon still being high in the sky that’s the last thing I remember all night.


	10. Even if Curiosity Killed the Cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve quoted or paraphrased Moonlight again. Most, if not all, of the quotes come from episode 16, ‘Sonata.’ I still don’t own those words. They belong to the copyright holders of all things Moonlight.

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Chapter 010**

**Even if Curiosity Killed the Cat**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Saturday, February 02, 2008; 7:00 a.m. PST**

**Josef’s Home, Beverly House, Beverly Hills, California**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

Ugh, it’s just not natural for a vampire to be waking 10 minutes after the sun rises, but I have things to do today, catastrophes to avoid and a secret to keep.  My phone beeps at me at precisely 7 a.m., and I blink a few times.  Did I set my phone’s alarm to go off at seven?  I don’t recall doing it, but I must have.

I amazingly slept through the whole night which is incredibly rare for me, and honestly, it’s rare for most vampires.  I can’t remember the last time I slept more than four hours, and a significant injury caused the last time I slept more than two in a single night. 

My maker said the Belladonna would make me act like I had too much sun exposure, so I figure the stress of the day combined with the poison and drained me of all my energy.

I feel entirely rested now, so I open the freezer door and then sit up and get out.  Despite the cool air in my freezer room, I release a heavy sigh at the loss of the sub-zero temperatures.  I think I’m going to go particularly hard on whoever is the reason I need to spend the day out under the sun.

My thoughts drift while I shower.  Yesterday was a highly informative day.  Beth, my future childe, isn’t even a tiny bit human.  She’s half air faerie and half demon.  Then, as if that wasn’t surprising enough, Josh was a shifter and not just a run of the mill shifter but a supreme supernatural shifter.  Then to top the surprises off, Beth almost died and unbeknownst to us her unborn twins almost died too. 

Twins.  How on earth am I going to be the father Beth so obviously wants me to be for this little boy and girl?  My father died right after my tenth birthday.  I barely remember him.

I step out of the shower and dry off before dropping my towel into my hamper, striding back into my room buck naked, and then grabbing my clothes from the closet.

I don’t bother with underwear, so I slide my jeans on and zip them and then sigh before I slip my t-shirt over my head. 

Being a father now is probably entirely different than it was in my human days.  If you believe the television, mothers expect fathers to be actively involved in all aspects of child-rearing.  I want that, but I don’t have the first clue how to raise mortal children. 

Then again, Beth isn’t mortal and is at least long-lived, and regular shifters can live to be more than 300 years old while the supreme supernatural shifters can live to be anywhere from 900 to 1,800 years old if they choose to do so.  Chances are good Josh’s children will be incredibly long-lived.  Then, throw in that Beth and I will both eventually be vampires by the time they reach adulthood, and it stands to reason they might follow in our footsteps in that regard.  I’ve known two supreme supernatural shifters who shifted into vampires and then just stayed that way.  They both still exist, too, some 2,900 years later. 

Either way, I have all the knowledge and resources I might need to teach them about the supernatural world.  I figure with Beth turning around their third birthday they’ll have to know about us early on, so they’ll be thoroughly knowledgeable about all things supernatural at an early age.

My only regret is it’s not my seed that helped create them.  I wish I could have impregnated Beth, but I suppose I’ll just have to make do with being her children’s five millennia old dad.  Goddess, I’m going to be a dad if Beth gets her way, and I know her well enough already that I realize she almost always gets her way.  We have that in common, she and I, which could prove interesting in the years to come.

I sit on my bed and put first one and then the other shoe on and then tie the laces before standing, slipping on my leather jacket, grabbing my phone, wallet, and keys, and heading into the hallway. 

I forgot to call and arrange for a freshie to be available this morning so after I leave my bedroom, I head down to the kitchen and grin at Susan who returns the smile with one of her own. 

She points to the door of the breakfast nook so walking over to the doorway I glance in and incline my head at Beth when she notices me.  She beams at me in between taking bites of her requested bagels, lox, and cream cheese.  She’s making these beautiful little moaning noises with each bite. 

She giggles a moment later and asks, “Uh, Josef, is there a reason you’re all, ‘Grr,’” and she bares her teeth and holds up her hands like claws when she says ‘Grr.’

I take stock of my body.  Damn, my eyes are ice blue, and my fangs are down.  How did I not even realize that? 

Chuckling, I tell her, “I’m waking at my usual bedtime, _and_ I’m hungry.  It’s nothing a bit of blood won’t fix.  Unfortunately, I’m sure all the freshies are either asleep or getting ready for work, and I didn’t call ahead, so I’ll have to settle for bottled.”

Just then Mona walks into the room from the other entrance right beside where Beth is sitting and says to her, “Beth, sorry I’m late, I’m not used to getting up this early.  I usually keep vampire hours so…”

I glance between both women and raise my brow at Beth, so she shrugs and says, “I figured you’d be preoccupied with Mick and our mystery and everything else and wouldn’t think to call ahead, so I managed to get my phone to work and called the freshie wing.  Fortunately, I got Mona on the first try, and she was more than happy to help us this morning, so why don’t you go feed, Josef, while I finish my breakfast, and then we can find out what Murphy’s discovered while we slept.”

I tilt my head to the right and raise my eyebrows while offering a bemused smile before asking, “You know I’m supposed to take care of you, not the other way around, right?”

She bites her lower lip and shakes her head before saying, “So far as I’m concerned, you’re family, now, Josef, that makes your happiness and wellbeing my number one priorities.  Besides, you wouldn’t be awake this early if it weren’t for me, so I figured I’d try to help make it as easy for you as I possibly can.”

I grin and then stride to her, lean down, and kiss the crown of her head before telling her, “Thank you, Childe.”

She beams and takes another bite of her breakfast, so I turn to Mona and say, “The living room perhaps?”

She leads the way out of the breakfast nook.  When we get to the living room, she sits on one of the couches and after smoothing out her skirt, she says, “You know, I like her and not that it’s any of my business, but I like how you are with her.  You smile and laugh more, and I don’t care what the other jealous bitches say, I like Beth.”

My brows raise into my hairline, so she holds up her hand and says, “And for the record, the number of jealous bitches is pretty low.  I’ve only heard three other freshies making comments they shouldn’t and I’m no tattletale, but I told Vincent, so he can keep them away from Beth as much as possible.  I can’t imagine this situation is easy for her, so I’m doing my best to make it easier on the freshie end.”

I sit beside her and reach over and squeeze her hand gently before telling her, “I appreciate that Mona.  I’ll make sure your weekly stipend reflects my appreciation.”

Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head before saying, “Oh, no, I didn’t do it _or_ tell you about it for money or anything else.  I just wanted you to know I’ve got Beth’s back if need be.  I figured maybe you’d worry a little less if you knew I’m looking out for her on my end of your world.”

I wink and bump her shoulder with mine before telling her, “Even so, I reward loyalty, so you will be receiving a sizable thank you.”

She sighs and after narrowing her ice blue eyes, asks, “There’s no talking you out of it is there?”

I chuckle and shake my head no, so she shrugs and says, “Then I guess I’ll just have to suffer a shopping trip on your dime.  Hey maybe if you’ll allow it, I could bring Beth.”

I lean into her neck and breath in her light scent of hibiscus and citrus and then tell her, “Her immediate availability will depend largely on our solving our mystery.  Either way, provided her guard goes with you, I won’t object to you taking her shopping or becoming her friend.  She needs all the friends she can get at this point.”

She beams at me and leans in closer, so I brush her medium light auburn hair from her neck, kiss it, and then lick her jugular vein before gently biting down.  She moans and clutches at my arm while I allow my fangs to suck her blood from the wound. 

I never understood the myths about us that have us swallow the blood.  Our fangs are hollow, and when submerged in a liquid such as blood or alcohol or inserted into flesh they suck the liquid present into our bodies. 

I don’t know the more exceptional details of how our bodies work or don’t work, but I’d think if we could digest blood or alcohol in our stomachs, we’d be able to digest human food, too.

Anyway, I keep my fangs inserted for a minute or two before pulling them from of her flesh, and after biting my tongue, I lick the wounds until they heal. 

She beams at me when I sit back and asks me, “Feeling better, Josef?”

My vampire features melt into my human ones, and I stand and stretch towards the ceiling before saying, “Immensely.”

She beams at me, so I hold down my hand to her and help her rise before telling her, “Come have breakfast with Beth, and then you can go to sleep.”

She smiles and follows me back to the breakfast nook.  I don’t usually socialize with freshies unless absolutely necessary, but Mona may be worth interacting with.  If she’s this loyal with the minuscule contact we’ve had so far, then I can’t imagine how loyal she might be with a bit of effort on my part. 

She might even be loyal enough to ask one of my underlings to turn her if they’re both willing.  Vincent might be the way to go because she said she told him of the three jealous freshies, so that means she has at least one way to contact him.  He wouldn’t dare feed from one of my freshies without permission, so that means he gave her his number because he enjoys her company and possibly respects her. 

I’ll have to watch them and see if they’re as compatible as I believe them to be because, as I said, I reward loyalty.  I’ll keep an eye out and see.

Beth and Mona spend their entire breakfast talking and just getting to know each other.  When they’re done eating their meal, and they’ve both drunk down large glasses of apple juice, Susan comes into the room to collect their plates and hands an insulated bag to Beth and says, “Here you are, Dear.  I made you a smoked turkey and Brie sandwich on cranberry bread with orange marmalade as a relish.  Dr. Ludwig assured me the small amount of orange in the marmalade won’t hurt your babies, so I included it.  There’s an apple and a bag of Frito's in there, too.  Do you want me to pack something for you to drink?”

Beth smiles and says, “Thank you, Susan.  I don’t need a drink.  Usually, I just drink water or coffee during the day.”

Her brow furrows before she shrugs and says, “I guess coffee and caffeine, in general, are out for the rest of my mortal life.” 

She holds up the water bottle that had been sitting on the table beside her and wiggles it before she finishes, “Anyway, I’ve got this, so I’ll be good.”

Susan inclines her head and then Mona excuses herself after saying, “It’s time for me to head to bed.  Josef, thank you for allowing me to join you both for breakfast, and I hope you solve the mystery before it becomes an issue.  Beth, I’ll talk to you later, and we can pick a time to go shopping on Josef’s dime.”

We both nod, and Beth hugs Mona before she leaves the room through the kitchen entrance to head to the freshie wing I had added on when I moved back in during the mid-1950s.  It’s not really a wing but a separate building altogether.  It has a living room, kitchenette, game room, movie room and 12 bedrooms, 10 of which currently house freshies, though I may be rethinking the employment of three of them if they’re openly bad-talking people I have allowed into my life. 

Anyway, the freshies only come to the main house to eat or feed me, and I’m never in attendance when _they_ eat, so my sitting with Beth and Mona probably seemed out of the ordinary for Mona, but she is polite enough not to mention it.

Beth stands from her seat, and after turning and staring at me for a moment she asks, “Has Murphy called yet?”

Taking my phone out of my pocket, I check for messages, and there is one message.  I put the phone on speaker and dial my voicemail, and then we both listen while Murphy says, “Sheriff, I just wanted to let you know it took a few hours, but I got in to speak with Mr. Bishop.  He told me what he saw, and then I glamoured him to forget what he witnessed.  Instead, he will say he ran because he was scared he’d be accused of wrongdoing because he had a fight with the victim shortly before he died.”

He pauses then says, “I’ve glamoured the detectives working the case, the A.D.A. and the coroner to all believe the death was accidental, and as of 10 minutes ago, it has officially been ruled an accidental death.  The blood sample has been destroyed and all record of it ever existing has been removed.”

He sighs into the phone, which is a habit even I still have despite not needing to breathe for over 5,380 years.  After a brief pause, he continues and says, “I think it best I speak to you in person to break the news of who is responsible.  Please call me back when you get this, and I’ll work my schedule around yours so you can deal with this at your convenience, but the immediate threat should be neutralized at this point.”

The message ends, and Beth narrows her eyes and frowns before asking, “Why didn’t he tell you over the phone?”

I rub the back of my neck and tell her, “I’m friends with every vampire that was present at the dedication.  In fact, I invited most of them, except the Monaghans and Lisa who was the blonde cheerleader hanging off Dominic’s arm most of the night.  That means no matter what, the vampire responsible for putting us in danger is a friend of mine.  Most of who I’m friends with is public knowledge among our kind, so he probably doesn’t want to drop that bombshell over the phone.”

She releases a heavy breath but nods, so I call Murphy back, and he says he can be at my house in half an hour. 

After I hang up, I grin and lead Beth to my office, and then we sit down.  We just stare at each other for a minute before we both laugh then I ask, “How did you sleep, Childe?”

She loses some of her smile and says, “I’m not gonna lie, I woke up a couple of times from nightmares, but I managed to get a few uninterrupted hours in the end.”

My eyebrows draw together, and I lean towards her before I ask, “Do you want to talk about it?”

She shrugs and stares at the floor in front of my desk, and while her lip trembles, she says in a tiny voice, “It was mostly Mick successfully killing my babies and me and laughing at me while I suffered and died.”

I open my mouth to counter that Mick wouldn’t find any of this funny, but she holds up her hand and says, “I know he didn’t find it a laughing matter any more than you or I did, but my subconscious decided to haunt me with his laughter.  I’m okay, though.”

My mouth goes dry at her words, and I rub my lip a handful of times before leaning my elbows on the top of my desk and telling her, “If you want to talk or vent further, I’m here for you anytime, Beth.”

Her hand quivers while she raises it and rubs above her heart as if it physically hurts, so I grimace and tell her, “My maker will discuss what he will do to Mick with us later today.  He wants to allow us to solve our mystery and deal with the reckless vampire who failed to tell me they killed a human in an incredibly public setting before we go worrying about Mick’s fate.”

Beth frowns and leans back in her chair before she latches onto the change of subject and asks, “What will you do to them?”

It’s my turn to shrug before I sit back in my chair and thread my fingers together over my stomach telling her, “Normally they’d be fined and then staked for a period.  My maker has mentioned he plans to bring formal charges against them for failing to report the death to me, so I imagine they’ll be fined, tortured, and staked but only after their fangs have been pulled.”

Her eyes are wide, and she sits forward in her chair and leans towards me a little before asking, “You’d pull their fangs out?  Is that permanent like with humans or do they grow back?”

I cover my mouth with my hand to hide the grin that fights to break out on my face at her ever-eager desire to learn new things.  Her eyes narrow at me, so I don’t think she’d appreciate my amusement, so I take a moment and wipe my face clean of all emotion before lowering my hand and telling her, “They regrow like any other part of our bodies.  The only amputation we can’t survive is a beheading.  We can even survive a heart extraction, though, that paralyzes us until the heart grows back.  Everything else will regrow.  Though, a limb, organ, or even fangs, growing back is terribly painful.  An organ would take a few days to regrow and is even more painful than a limb or fangs growing back.”

She’s listening intently, so I kick my feet out in front of me under my desk and then tell her, “Fangs, on the other hand, take months to regrow, and in the case of entire limbs it can sometimes take years depending on the size of the lost limb.  For instance, a finger would take a few days to a few weeks to regrow, but I once knew a vampire who lost his leg, and it took him over four years to get the whole thing back in working order.”

I shrug and drum the fingers of my right hand on the top of my desk and say, “No one’s sure why fangs take longer than a finger, but Daphne thinks it has to do with the complexity of the fangs.  They’re not like human teeth.  They’re hollow and somehow know when to suck liquid, i.e., blood, or in some case alcohol into them.  They’re connected to our circulatory system, which is probably the part that causes them to take so long to heal.”

She’s still leaning towards me, so I shrug and tell her, “Furthermore, our fangs are terribly sensitive, which is a product of them needing to know when they’re surrounded by a liquid or embedded in blood rich flesh.  Usually that’s an enjoyable part of being a vampire, however, the pulling itself is horribly painful, or so I’ve heard, and then the growing back is even more painful, but that’s not the actual punishment.  The punishment is, in fact, two fold.  The first part is the humiliation of not being able to bite or feed naturally.  The second part is the pain of starving until enough of the fang grows back in to allow them to feed by taking the blood into their mouth and allowing the stump of their fangs to suck the blood out of the mouth cavity.”

Her head is nodding slowly, so I thread my fingers over my stomach again and tell her, “My sire and I will make sure the entire community knows who is responsible and what their punishment is.  Everyone will know they’re fangless until their fangs grow back, which will be slowed by the fact they’ll likely end up staked for some time.  For whatever reason, our bodies don’t heal, or at least not much, while we’re staked.  We haven’t been able to figure out exactly why that is, but most believe it’s because of a mixture of our inability to feed while staked and our hearts not beating even the slow amount they usually do.  Anyway, their fangs won’t begin growing back until after we remove the stake.”

Her eyes are wide and round, but she nibbles on her lower lip and narrows her eyes before she says, “I sincerely hope I never have to experience that.”

Giving a gentle smile, I tell her, “I doubt you’ll ever do anything to warrant that particular punishment.”

I want her to go into this all with eyes wide open, and she needs to understand the truth of her future situation, so I lean towards her and say, “For the record, if you do, you will have far more to worry about than having your fangs pulled because Jorge and I will privately punish you, too.  You should keep in mind your future grandsire led the Inquisition and has taught me everything he knows about torture and punishment.  While we can make torture pleasurable if that sort of thing interests you, we both know how to make it excruciating and debilitating, too, so have no doubt public humiliation will be the least of your troubles if you behave badly enough to have your fangs pulled.”

Her eyes are so wide and round the whites of her eyes are visible all the way around her irises, but she gives a slow, deliberate nod and says, “I’ll definitely keep that in mind.”

She brings her thumb to her lips and nibbles on her thumbnail for a minute before adding, “And uh, maybe some other time you can tell me a bit about pleasurable torture.  I’ve, uh, read about BDSM, but I’ve never tried anything of that sort, so I have no clue if that type of thing would interest me or not.  I mean, the idea is appealing, but I don’t know if the reality is anything I’d want to get involved in.”

I smirk and lean over my desk a bit before lowering my voice to a sultry purr and telling her, “Then I’ll be sure and show you what’s possible.”

Her natural aroma strengthens and hints of cloves, cinnamon, and nutmeg carry over the air to me, signaling at least some arousal.  I raise an eyebrow while the scent tickles my nose and tell her, “Of course, if you ever don’t like something I do to or with you, and it’s not meant to be punishment then all you have to do is say so, and I’ll stop.  I’ll give you a safe-word before beginning any type of play that you may not like, and I’ll respect the use of the word.”

She sits back and crosses her legs which sends a delightful whiff of her spicy arousal towards me.  I do my best not to moan while she rests her hands on her knee and says, “I know.  I trust you, Josef even despite your mentioning possible punishments.”

I lean back in my chair again and then change the subject just a bit, “I’m not sure we have enough time to discuss the possibility of forming a blood bond.  However, the doctor said I should feed you my blood at least twice a day, so if you’re willing, now might be an appropriate time to get the first dose in before we go out for the day.”

She doesn’t respond beyond the slight widening of her eyes before she stands and almost sashays around my desk.  I turn the chair to face her, and when she’s standing in front of me, I reach for her hand and pull her onto my lap.  Brushing my hand along her cheek, I tell her, “Drink until the wound heals, okay?”

She gives another slow nod but with wide eyes this time, so I bring my wrist to my mouth and bite down before presenting the bleeding wound to her.  She wraps her lips around the injury, and while holding onto my wrist with her petite hands, she drinks my blood.  I moan at the feel of her soft lips moving against the sensitive skin of my wrist.  Then I shift her in my lap, so she won’t feel my erection that is quickly growing. 

Other than sharing between those of my grandsire’s line, I’ve only ever shared my blood to turn my 15 childer and a few humans dear to me after they suffered an injury or illness.  I’ve never shared my blood with a mortal without it being either part of the turning or healing process. 

Turnings are nerve-wracking, even at my age, and worry over whether the healing came too late have always made the exchanging of blood a somber experience for me.  So, an exchange of blood with a mortal has never turned me on.  Beth drinking my blood, though, causes a quick and extremely noticeable reaction in me.

I moved her, not because I think she’s a prude or because I’m embarrassed but because we don’t have the time necessary to explore the ideas my libido wishes I would entertain with Beth.

When the wound heals, she pulls away but then leans in and licks off any blood left behind.  I groan while I watch her little pink tongue reach out and then stroke my skin.

She leans in, and with a hand resting on my chest to help support her, she then kisses me on the lips, and it’s unlike any kiss we’ve shared before.  All the others were closed-mouthed pecks, but this one, well, our lips glide against each other, and then I take a risk and lick the seam of her apple juice flavored lips which causes her to open her mouth to my searching tongue just like I had hoped it would.  My tongue rubs along hers tasting my own blood, and she responds in kind before moving closer to me which causes her bottom to rub against my painfully hard erection.

Moaning into the kiss, she runs her hands up into my hair, but before things can go too far my phone rings, so I reluctantly pull away from her lips.  I peck her lips twice and then sit back long enough to get my labored breathing under control so I can answer my phone.  I never did understand how a vampire can have labored breathing when we don’t _need_ to breathe, but I assure you we can.

Beth brings her fingers to her lips and rubs them before whispering, “Wow.”

I chuckle and tell her, “Wow, indeed.”

A delightful blush blooms across her cheeks, so I give her another peck, and then I grab my phone off the desk and push send before bringing it to my ear and asking, “Hello?”

It’s Murphy, who doesn’t introduce himself or question why I’m out of breath, but says, “Sheriff, I’m here, but it’s probably best that the humans who work for you don’t see an L.A.P.D. Detective at your house, so can you let me in instead of my buzzing the gate?”

Nodding even though he can’t see it, I tell him, “Hold on a moment,” then I open a panel built into my desk, and after I press a button, the wall across from me moves to reveal a closed-circuit security system.  There are five rows of six television screens showing different rotating views of the compound. 

Murphy is standing at the gate, so I push a button and the gate swings open.  I tell him, “Just come in,” and then I push another button unlocking the front door, so he can enter.

When I hang up, Beth reaches her hand out and wipes her thumb along my lips.  She smiles before sitting back and looking my face over.  She gives a slow nod and then says, “I think I got all my lipstick off your lips.”

I chuckle even while she gets off my lap and straightens her clothes quickly before taking her seat in front of my desk.  I, in turn, adjust my jeans slightly and thank the Goddess I’m the sheriff, so I don’t have to stand when Murphy arrives if I don’t want to.

Murphy’s been here before, so he knows the way to my office, but I keep an eye on him on the monitors while he stalks down my halls and up my stairwells.  He avoids the most traveled parts of the house, effectively staying out of sight of any of my staff. 

A few seconds after Beth retakes her seat across from me, Detective Thomas Murphy enters the room and stands in front of my desk.  He’s wearing a stone-grey suit.  The dark shade makes him appear bigger than his six-foot-four-inch frame.  His barrel chest stretches his jacket to its limits and when he crosses his arms over his chest his jacket sleeves bulge and threaten to tear. 

The color of the suit is only a shade or two darker than his storm-cloud-grey eyes.  He runs a hand through his strawberry blonde short, spiky hair and then bows his head and says, “Sheriff, thank you for seeing me.”

I incline my head and tell him, “You’re welcome.  First, this is Beth Turner, my future Childe, and the new area investigator.  She’ll be needing an assistant both for the area investigator position and for her work with the D.A.’s office.  If you both approve, I figure you can try working together for a couple of weeks and see if you are compatible.  Either way, for the next few weeks you should glamour whomever necessary to have you teamed up with Beth in the D.A.’s office.  If you decide later you don’t fit well enough to continue the arrangement, I’ll ask one of the other Detectives we have on the force.  However, you, Thomas, have proven yourself repeatedly in recent times, so I thought of you when I realized Beth should still share her caseload with a vampire.  You will, of course, get compensation from Area Two for your time and effort helping Beth solve her cases.”

He shifts and brings his hands behind his back, holding them there while he says, “Thank you, Sheriff, I’m willing to give it a try if she is,” then he turns and gazes at Beth telling her, “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.  I look forward to seeing if we can work as well together as you and St. John seemed to.  His improved solve rate, not to mention the increased speed of his case closures, makes me think I’ll enjoy working with you if you’re willing to give me a chance.”

She leans towards him and says, “It’s nice to meet you, too, and if you’re willing to work with a non-vampire then I am definitely open to giving a working relationship a go.  This case has shown me that having a partner, particularly a vampire partner, is immensely helpful to not only solve the case but to keep me from running myself ragged trying to do everything and be everywhere all at once.”

He inclines his head, so I ask him, “Fabulous, now, what is so horrible you couldn’t tell it to me over the phone?”

He stands straighter and informs us both, “I’m sorry, Sheriff.  I just felt you would want to hear this news in person.  I didn’t mean to trouble you.”

I hold up my hand and tell him, “Thomas, it wasn’t a complaint, and I was mostly teasing you.  Tell me what you discovered, and I’ll let you go glamour those necessary for you to begin working with Beth as of Monday morning.”

He releases a heavy sigh and shifts on his feet before he says, “Thank you, Sheriff.  So, um, the kid, Hank Bishop, saw what he thought was kinky sex between Dominic Michaels and his manager, Emma Monaghan.  It wasn’t until she began throwing the victim around the room and snapped his neck that the kid realized anything was wrong.  He also saw her fangs and knew she wasn’t human.  As I said on the phone, he’s been glamoured to forget the whole thing, and he now believes he ran because he feared suspicion would fall on him.”

Emma?  Dammit.  What would possess her to cheat on Jackson in the first place, but beyond that, why didn’t she report it?  She’s old enough to know better than to keep her actions from me.  I like to think she knows me well enough to know I wouldn’t have gotten involved in her personal affairs and only would have dealt with the human angle leaving it to her as to whether she told her husband, so there is no excuse. 

Now, I’m going to have no choice but to involve Jackson, and Emma will force me to publicly humiliate him because I won’t be able to keep Emma’s identity a secret from the community.

I inhale deeply and then slowly let it out through my nose while I contemplate the mess my friend has made for all of us before asking, “Anything else I need to know?”

He shakes his head and says, “As I said in my message, everyone involved in the investigation has been glamoured to believe it was an accident and I personally destroyed the blood sample and removed all traces of it from the system records, so we should be covered from detection both before and after the future revelation.”

I incline my head and tell him, “Excellent work.  Thank you, Thomas.”

He grins at my praise and then after he and Beth exchange information and arrange to meet at her desk first thing Monday morning, I dismiss him and then stand and pace back and forth behind my desk. 

Of all the stupid, idiotic things.  Emma knows better.  She should have told me as soon as the situation would allow.  She should not have let the human authorities or me go chasing after our own tails for a few days. 

My maker is going to have a field day with her, and I can’t see any way to keep Jackson from having his heart publicly broken.

Beth shows wisdom beyond her years by keeping quiet while I pace.  A moment later I exhale a jarring breath and stop before turning my gaze on her and asking, “Is it wrong that I’m getting awfully tired of friends of mine making stupid decisions and betraying those closest to them?”

She shakes her head and says, “No, it’s not wrong.  From everything I know about you, Josef, you have always followed the law and a strict honor code, so I can understand why you’d be so frustrated by people you care about going around and acting without honor Willy Nilly.  Do you want me to leave you to vampire business or do you need me to be present?  Whichever you want, I’ll do.”

I don’t verbally answer her and instead sit down and lift my cell phone off the desk where I put it earlier before dialing Jackson’s phone number.  I don’t think I can keep my displeasure from showing through in my tone if I talk to Emma.  So, I’ll speak to Jackson because my tone of voice shouldn’t spook him. 

Even if he tells her I sounded angry, if I word myself correctly, I’ll be able to allow her to think my displeasure is someone else’s fault which should keep her from trying to flee.

He answers on the second ring and says, “Josef, what can I do for you?”

I frown because she didn’t truly betray me, not the way she betrayed him anyway.  Mindful of that fact I tell him, “I need to see you and Emma at my office at 1 p.m.  This is official area business, so don’t anger me by being late.”

The frown on his face is evident in his voice when he asks, “Sheriff, if I’ve done something—”

Oh, he’s definitely not the one who has done something he shouldn’t have, so I cut him off and tell a tiny fib, “You and Emma haven’t done anything to my knowledge.  We have a suspect in the murder of Dominic Michaels, though, and we need all the information we can get from anyone who might know anything before we bring formal charges against the individual.  This person has caused the new area investigator and me to waste our precious time, so I’m in a bad mood, and I won’t put up with tardiness.”

He exhales audibly and says, “Very well, Emma and I will be at your office at 1 p.m.”

Frowning I tell him, “Thank you, Old Friend.”

I hang up a moment later, and then take my MacBook Pro out of the desk drawer.  I open it and then turn it on, and once it’s booted up, I click the icon to open my address book and then after finding the number I need, I pick up my cell phone again and dial Lisa Schaefer’s dorm room.  She’s the vampire cheerleader from the party.

I don’t usually call her in her dorm room, which is why I didn’t already have the number in my phone, but I’ve known Lisa for a few hundred years, so I’m not surprised when she answers and says, “Josef, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

I smile despite the situation and tell her, “I need to speak with you before noon today.  When are you available?”

She is obviously frowning when she says, “I have cheer-leading practice this morning, but if you don’t mind coming to me, I can dismiss them early, and we can speak about whatever you need.”

I sit back in my seat and run my free hand through my hair before I tell her, “My future childe and I will be there around 10 a.m.”

I picture her narrowed sky-blue eyes in my mind while she says, “We’re practicing inside the new arena, so just come down to the court when you get there, and I’ll dismiss the humans.”

I let out a soft breath and tell her, “Thank you, Lisa.”

Her smile is evident when she says, “Even if you weren’t my sheriff, you’re my friend, Josef, so I’ll help you in any way I can.”

I’m grinning, too, despite myself, before I tell her, “I will not forget that.”

She says “Good, I’m going to see if I can get the girls together early, so we don’t miss too much practice.  I’ll see you when you get there.”

I hang up before making one more call to my second-in-command.  I put it on speaker-phone so Beth can hear, and he answers on the third ring and says, “Mr. Kostan, do you need something?”

I let out a ragged breath and tell him, “Vincent, I’m sorry to disturb you on your day off, but I have an emergency, and I need you to be in the office by 11:30 and ready to accept guests by noontime.”

I easily picture him in my head looking over his calendar with furrowed brow when he tells me, “I had some work I wanted to finish, so I was going to go in today anyway, so I’ll just come in a few hours earlier.”

I release a heavy sigh and tell him, “Thank you, and I’ll make sure you get overtime for your work this weekend.”

His frown comes through loud and clear when he asks, “Are you going to need me for more than just this afternoon?  If so, I’ll cancel my plans for this evening.”

He’s an exceptional childe and an excellent friend, so I know deep in my soul he doesn’t really mind.  Still, I tell him, “I’m sorry to disrupt your plans, but it may be necessary, however, wait until after my 1 o’clock to change your plans.  I’ll know shortly after that appointment what my needs will be tonight.”

In my head I imagine him nodding with a furrowed brow while he rubs the back of his neck and says, “Of course, Mr. Kostan.”

I let loose a booming laugh and ask him, “Vincent, since when do you call me anything other than Sire, Josef, or Master when it’s just us?  You are my second-in-command, and although most of the time you pose as an essential and extraordinarily valuable employee we both know you are above most others I interact with and beyond that, you are my childe and friend.”

He chuckles and says, “I know all of that, but you sound like I’m on speakerphone and I hear a heartbeat in the background, so I wanted to err on the side of caution in case there is anyone present who might be able to hear me but doesn’t know about us.”

That right there is why he has been my trusted second and acting as my assistant since before the term became fashionable.  We’ve been together for 4,279 years, and his discretion is only one of the many reasons I would be lost without him by my side.  I beam and tell him, “The heartbeat you hear is your future blood-sister, Beth.  We are alone, so you can be less formal, but I thank you for your discretion.  You’re worth every penny I pay you.”

He snorts and says, “I still think you pay me too much, Josef.”

I snicker, and after leaning back in my chair, I tell him, “Consider it—”

He interrupts me and finishes my sentence, “…Back-pay for the centuries I worked for you for little to no pay.  I know, but still.”

Chuckling, I wink at Beth and then say, “You know me well, Childe, now, I will let you go and see you in my office around 11:30.”

The continued smile on his face is evident in his voice when he says, “Of course, Sire.  I’ll be there with bells on.”

I bark out another laugh and then hang up.

Beth raises her eyebrow and asks, “Vincent is coming in?  I always liked him.  He never treated me as less because I’m human or thought I was human, whatever.  He was always respectful and even made small talk with me a few times when I had to wait to be seen, _and_ he never acted like it was a hardship to converse with me.”

I lean towards her and rest my elbows on the top of my desk before telling her, “I met him 4,279 years ago give or take a decade or two.  I turned him almost exactly three years after we met.  He’s my oldest, but he’s one of the childer I resisted the pull for, not because I didn’t want him, but his mother was ill, and he didn’t want to leave with me until she passed.  I respected that, so I stuck around and helped him make arrangements for his family for once he was gone, and when his mother died, I turned him.”

She’s leaning towards me with her elbow resting on her knee and her chin in her hand, so I grin and tell her, “He has always read me well and used that gift to serve me to the best of his abilities.  While I’m certain Mick is clueless about my fondness for you, I am equally sure Vincent is aware of my feelings regarding you, and, therefore, treated you the way he knew I would want you treated.  While he likely didn’t and doesn’t know I was seriously trying to figure out a way to turn you, he would have been able to tell I respect you, and he would have taken his cues from me.”

She gives a gentle nod, so I run my hand through my hair and tell her, “He would have known you are one of the people I would have _wanted_ to turn, but he would have assumed you being Mick’s human would cause me to disregard the possibility.”

I pause and shrug before saying, “If anyone could figure it out on their own, it would be Vincent.  He’ll never comment on his suspicions, though, because Jorge ultimately ordered that I turn you.  Vincent will protect my interests to the best of his abilities, and he knows I wish to remain friends with Mick as much as possible.”

I let out a heavy breath and tell her, “Though his attempt on your life has caused me to reexamine our friendship and whether I wish to continue calling him my friend.”

Her eyes widen even while she keeps leaning towards me, so I explain, “Just as he’s viewing my needing to turn you as an attack on him and his, I’m viewing _his_ attempt to kill you as an attack on _me and mine_.  I haven’t decided yet, though.”

Her eyes remain wide open, and her brow is furrowed, so I tell her, “Anyway, back to Vincent, I’m glad to hear he treated you agreeably because that will bode well for all of us getting along in the future.  I’ve always done my best to foster strong ties between all of my childer and I wish for you to be close to them and not just me.”

She smiles and says, “I like Rider and Vincent, so I look forward to meeting the rest of your childer.  How many still exist?”

I lean back in my chair and tell her, “I’ve turned15 people including Sarah and Mick and nine of them still exist.  In the coming weeks, I’ll contact them and let them know they’re to have a new sister and that your turning has been delayed because they will be getting a new niece and nephew as well.”

She chuckles and asks, “And will they be happy about any of that?”

I grin and rest my hand on my desk, playing with the corner of the ink blotter before telling her, “They will all be ecstatic.  The only childe I’ve had who wouldn’t have been happy has been dead for 363 years after she killed her younger blood-sister forcing me to end her in retaliation.”

Beth’s eyes widen, so I tell her, “Lotus Jade Flower planned to kill me and all of my line, so she could take control of all of our assets.  She tried to talk my then youngest childe, Anne, into helping her, but Anne was loyal to me, so she refused, and Lotus killed her to keep me from discovering her treachery.  What she didn’t realize is I can feel all my childer, so I knew the moment Anne died and went to investigate.”

I breathe out a loud breath and rub the back of my neck before telling her, “Lotus is the only childe I’ve ever turned that I didn’t feel the pull towards, and I believe that is why she wasn’t unfailingly loyal to me and mine.  She wasn’t mystically meant to be mine.  Anyway, everyone else should welcome you with varying degrees of open arms.  Some of the older ones might require time to see if you’re worthy of me, but that’s mostly because they felt Lotus’ betrayal profoundly and wish to protect me from further pain and treachery.”

Beth scowls and says with a bite in her voice, “Lotus is lucky she’s already dead, or we’d have issues.”

I chuckle and tell her, “I’ll be sure and tell Briseis, Millicent, and Samantha you said that after hearing what she did.  That should impress them at least a bit.”

Beth shakes her head and says, “Don’t tell them, let me earn their respect through my actions that _they_ witness and not the actions _you_ witness.  That’s the only way they’ll truly accept me as their sister.”

She’s continuously proving she’s worthy of me and her words just now continue that trend, but she makes a fair point, so I tell her, “Okay, provided they treat you well, I’ll do it your way.”

She brushes a lock of her blonde tresses behind her ear and says, “Thank you, and don’t worry, I’ll do everything in my power to prove I’m worthy of your line.”

I don’t doubt that, so I simply nod and then lean towards her and say, “Anyway, going back to Mick and Vincent, Mick may be my best friend, but Vincent is my right hand, my first childe, and I’d be lost without him.  Our relationship has a much different dynamic than the one I have with Mick in part because, unlike Mick, Vincent has always been one of my childer.  However, despite being his maker, he’s like a much younger brother, though, obviously not anywhere near as young as Mick.”

She grins and uncrosses her legs before leaning on her knees with her elbows and saying, “Mick is your best friend despite what and who you are, while Vincent is your family who puts up with all your idiosyncrasies out of love more so than duty.  Mick holds back, but Vincent gives you all of himself, and you return the honor.” 

I incline my head because she’s hit the nail right on the head, so she adds, “That’s cool.” 

I glance at the digital clocks on the wall across from my desk that have the current times in several international cities.  We need to get going, so I sit forward and pick up my phone and then stand and put my phone into my pocket before asking, “Are you ready to go speak with Lisa?”

She cocks her head to the left and frowns slightly before she asks, “Uh, not that I’m complaining because I’m not, but why are we going and talking to Lisa if we already know who did it?”

I gaze at her for a minute and then tell her, “I smelled her on Dominic at the dedication.  I don’t think they had sex that night, but they definitely kissed and made out, so I figure if anyone might be able to corroborate Hank's statement so far as to whether Emma was having a sexual relationship with Dominic, it’s Lisa.  She’s usually up on all the gossip anyway but add in the fact I know she was probably sleeping with him, well, she might be the motive for his death.”

Beth furrows her brows and pinches her bottom lip between her thumb and pointer finger before letting go of her lip and pointing that finger at me and asking, “You think this is a jealousy-fueled rage that resulted in Dominic’s death?”

I shrug and then push the button closing the panels on the wall and my desk before telling her, “Maybe.”

I wave towards the door and ask, “Shall we go see if we can get some answers so when we ask Emma what happened, we’ll already know all the details.”

Her brow smooths out, and she smiles and stands before asking, “Do you want me to stay behind?  I mean it’s technically a vampire thing…”

I stride around my desk and come and stand before her.  I put my forearms on her shoulders, gazing into her eyes, before telling her, “I was serious when I said you’re going to be the Area Investigator even with this delay in your turning.  In fact, I’m officially naming you the area investigator retroactively effective as of Thursday morning.  While you’re not a vampire just yet and there will be a considerable delay in you becoming my childe, there’s no time like the present to jump into the deep end.”

I play with a lock of her hair and then tell her, “Despite the delay, I plan to treat you as though you are already my childe in every way except those that might put you or your children in danger.”

She brings her hands up to my arms still resting on her shoulders and squeezes lightly before saying, “Okay, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t feel obligated to include me.”

Smiling, I shift to stand beside her and put my arm around her shoulders before trying to guide her out of the room and telling her, “Trust me, Beth, if I didn’t think your inclusion was appropriate, I would have told you long before now.”

She turns her face and looks at me and says, “Good, I just wanted to make sure,” then she spins out of my grasp and heads to the corner of my office before picking up her computer from Rider’s desk.  She puts it back into its bag, and then she slings the bag over her shoulder and returns to my side.

I put my arm back around her, and we walk down to the first floor.  When we reach the ground floor, Beth pulls away again and says, “Let me just get my sandwich and water bottle from the kitchen because we’re planning to go to your office after we meet with Lisa.”

Not even three minutes later, we’re striding out of the house.

Traffic is thick today, so it’s slow going.  Beth shifts in her seat and then clears her throat and asks, “Um, are we going to talk about that amazing kiss?”

I chuckle and tell her, “It was pretty amazing wasn’t it?”

She just slowly nods, so I glance over at her briefly before bringing my eyes back to the road in front of me and telling her, “I already told you, Beth, I’m open to having a physical relationship with you.  Now, that kiss shows we have undeniable chemistry, and the only reason I turned you down the other night was that you were clearly upset, and I thought it would do more harm than good on _that_ particular night.  If I don’t think it’ll hurt your emotional wellbeing in the future, and I’ll take that on a case by case basis, then I’m more than open to us entertaining each other that way.  It’s your choice, though, again, I reserve the right to put the brakes on if I think it’s appropriate to do so.”

She just slowly tilts her head to the left with a dreamy smile on her face and says, “Okay, then I’m willing.  I’d be stupid to say no after that kiss, I think I’m still tingling everywhere we touched and a few places we didn’t.”

I snicker and nod with a satisfied smirk on my face.  The scent of her blood so close to the surface of her skin fills the interior of the car while her blush blooms on her cheeks and moves its way down her throat.  Just how far down does it go?

She clears her throat again and says, “I’ve never been kissed like that, Josef.  I, I mean I’ve kissed men before.  Obviously, because I'm pregnant, I’m not a virgin, and although the number of men I’ve been with is small, I’ve certainly kissed men and been kissed well, but a kiss has never felt like that.  I only ever felt like that after having an orgasm.  How on earth did you make me feel post orgasmic without me even having a damn orgasm?”

I stifle a chuckle because I’m unclear whether she’s angry.  Her words had a slight bite to them, but she’s relaxed, and her muscles are loose. 

I err on the side of caution, though, and ask her, “Out of curiosity, who’s the oldest man you’ve ever kissed beside me and how old was he?”

She narrows her eyes and furrows her brow even while she nibbles on her lower lip before releasing it and saying, “I see where you’re going with this and to answer your question I dated a professor from another school while I was an undergrad.  He was 43 at the time, and except for a few kisses that I shared with Mick he is by far the oldest man I’ve ever done anything with, well, until this morning that is.”

I chuckle and tell her, “So, it makes sense the man who is more than 5,340 years older than that professor would be more adept at the art of giving pleasure than any of the men you’ve been with before, right?”

She nods before saying, “But you only touched my lips.  How is my whole body thrumming from a kiss?  I don’t get it.”

Something occurs to me, which I don’t have much experience with because usually I’m the one taking blood not the one giving it, so I tell her, “It might have something to do with the fact you’ve had my blood three times.  What you’re describing sounds like how it feels when I’m with those I share a blood-link with.  While I am not in the habit of sharing my blood terribly often, generally only to heal or turn those few humans I consider mine, it would make sense that giving someone my blood multiple times would have the same effect on the other person that the blood-link I share with those of Roman’s line has on me.”

She frowns and rubs her lips with her finger before asking, “So, what you’re saying is it’ll always feel like this so long as I’m either drinking your blood or I’m your childe.”

I reach over and squeeze her hand briefly before putting my hand back on the gear shift and telling her, “Pretty much.”

She laughs and then says, “You, Josef Kostan, are going to ruin me for all other men.”

I chuckle, but a secret part of me I'm not willing to give voice to or even really inspect too closely right now wants to say, _‘Good.’_ I know better than to say that out loud, though, so I actively work at keeping a wide grin off my face, and we continue the journey in companionable silence. 

It takes us 45 minutes to get to the Arena.  When I get out of the car, I stride around it and open Beth’s door for her.  She smiles and takes my hand.  After she’s standing, she glances up at the sun shining brightly in the sky and asks, “I once asked Mick how much sun is too much sun.  He told me any is too much, but now that seems kind of dismissive to me like he was trying to keep from explaining the nitty-gritty details of being a vampire, so I’ll ask you, how much sun is too much sun?”

I put my hand on the small of her back and lead her towards the arena’s front door before telling her, “He probably _was_ being dismissive, but it’s an honest answer.  The moment the rays of the sun hits our skin, we begin losing energy.  Lose enough, and it’ll kill us as you almost witnessed in the desert back in September.  Now, the older a vampire is, the more energy and power they have to draw from, so I can stay in the sun much longer than Mick could and have far fewer negative reactions to it.  That said, the sun’s rays are why most vampires wear long sleeves and pants or long skirts even when it’s hot out because the cloth keeps us from losing more energy.  Still, our heads are exposed as are our hands and necks, but for the most part, Vincent or I could have easily spent the same time out in the middle of the desert that Mick spent with an inconsequential effect.  Unlike Mick, we’d probably be a bit drained and slower to react, but we would not have been on death’s door, far from it, in fact.”

She turns her face and looks at me with wide round eyes, so while we go up a flight of stairs towards the doors of the building, I tell her, “I’ve spent an entire day in the sun in shorts and no shirt on multiple occasions.  You will as well because it’ll teach you what being drained feels like, and it’ll show you how to compensate for what you’ve lost from the sun’s rays.  It’ll be one of the less comfortable exercises I’ll make you do once you turn, but it’ll likely save your life at some point, so it’s worthwhile to suffer a little to make sure you know how to react if you find yourself taking a hike through the desert at high noon like Mick did.”

When we reach the doors, I open one for her, and we enter the building, before she asks, “Did you ever make Mick do that?”

I shake my head and tell her, “Oh, I tried on multiple occasions, but after a few minutes in the sun he insisted it wasn’t necessary and would go back inside.  I stopped trying to teach the lesson a decade ago, though, his diet would have made him lose energy faster than when he regularly live fed.”

She narrows her eyes and says, “Okay, for the record I want to be the strongest I can be and know as much as I can so I will do whatever you tell me to, and you have my express permission to remind me I just said that whenever I bitch too much.”

I chuckle and lead Beth through the lobby to the back stairwell, and we head down to the floor of the court.  After laughing for a solid 30 seconds, I manage to calm myself and ask, “Why do I have a feeling I’m going to be reminding you quite a bit?”

She giggles and says, “Maybe because even though you and I haven’t known each other for long, you seem to have a decent read on me and who _and_ how I am.”

I just nod slowly, and when we reach the side of the court, we watch Lisa drill her squad for a little more than half an hour.  I wait that long because I’m aware I’m causing Lisa to lose valuable practice time.  I refrain from speaking so as not to distract Lisa’s girls, but I beam the whole time because like a well-behaved childe Beth takes her cues from me and remains silent as well. 

When it looks like a reasonable stopping point, I clear my throat.  Lisa glances over at us and grins before she then claps her hands and says, “Alright guys, good practice.”

They quickly disperse, so I lead Beth towards center court and snicker when Lisa rubs her hands together and says, “Oh, I get to meet the future childe.  I’m gonna be the envy of the city’s vampires when my friends discover I got to meet the famous Beth Turner first.  Ms. Turner a pleasure.  I, like most every other vampire in town, have heard all about your exploits with Mr. St. John.”

Beth smiles and inclines her head, so Lisa stares at me with narrowed eyes and furrowed brow and asks, “Josef, it’s not like you to call me in the morning, in my dorm room no less, _and_ on a Saturday at that, so what can I do for you?”

I let out a heavy breath and stuff my hands into my jeans pockets before telling her, “We’re investigating Dominic’s death.”

She frowns and shifts on her feet before crossing her arms over her chest and asking, “I heard it was maybe murder?”

I shrug and say, “Or an accident.  Perhaps someone got a little rough?  The human authorities found vamp blood on the body.”

Lisa’s eyes pop open wide, and she shakes her head and says, “Not mine, not that night anyway.”

I already knew that, still, I ask, “But you _were_ sleeping with him?”

She nods and says, “We hooked up pretty regularly while he was a student here and every now and then since he went to the pros.”

She glances at Beth and tells her, “I’ve been into jocks the last few semesters.”

Beth chuckles and asks, “Oh, so how long have you been in college?”

I snicker while Lisa grins and tells my future childe, “Forty years or so.  It’s the perfect life for a vamp.  Nobody notices when you sleep all day, and there’s a constant rotation of frat boys too drunk to know when a hickey isn’t a hickey.”

Beth raises an eyebrow and asks, “No one notices the puncture marks on the neck?”

One side of Lisa’s lips tilt up in a smirk before she says, “That’s not the artery I go for.”

I chuckle at the blush spreading across Beth’s face before she says, “Oh, right.”

I give Lisa a moment to enjoy Beth’s blush and its fragrant aroma and then ask her, “You weren’t feeding on Dominic?”

Lisa shakes her head vigorously and says, “No way!  He took our team to the tournament three years in a row.  He needed his strength.  Emma was careful too, at least I never noticed anything.”

Bingo.  That’s what I wanted from her.  Still, I ask so there’s no doubt, “Emma Monaghan?  Dominic was sleeping with his manager?”

She nods slowly and says, “Yeah for the past couple of months at least, but you didn’t hear that from me, Josef.”

Beth moves closer to me but asks, “Did Jackson know?”

Lisa once again shakes her head back and forth and says, “Not from me, no way I’d get in the middle of that.”

Beth narrows her eyes and asks, “Maybe not from you but have you seen anything to indicate Jackson suspects?”

Lisa frowns but her brow furrows and her eyes squint while she obviously really thinks it over.  She shakes her head a minute later and says, “No, he’s been the same loving and devoted husband he’s always been ever since I met them both in New York in 1923.”

She looks at Beth and shrugs before saying, “I was a flapper back then.”

Beth smiles, so Lisa turns her face back to me and says, “Anyway, I haven’t noticed any strain between them or anything, and the only reason I know about Emma and Dominic is that I saw her come out of his building once.  When I entered his apartment, I could smell her all over him.  She didn’t see me, but I could clearly smell her or more specifically her sex.”

She shrugs with a frown on her face and says, “I made him shower before I’d be with him because as any vampire will tell you, being able to smell another’s sex on the person your sleeping with is repulsive.  I mean it doesn’t smell bad per say, but it’s a reminder you’re not the only one, and even if you don’t _want_ to be the only one, no woman likes to be reminded there are other, possibly prettier, fish in the sea.”

Beth and I both nod and then Beth shows why she’s such a talented investigator by asking, “You said you don’t think she saw you, but has she acted any differently towards you?  Maybe she smelled _you_ on him, and _she_ didn’t like that there are possibly prettier fish in the sea?”

Lisa shakes her head but says, “No, but I don’t see either of the Monaghans too often.  I see Jackson more than Emma in a standard week.  Plus, it’s been a while since I slept with Dominic on anything nearing a regular basis.  He’s in the big leagues now, or he was, and the Knicks drafted him, so he wasn’t here in L.A. that often anymore.  I did have plans with him for later that night.  Obviously, that never happened.”

I turn and gaze at Beth for a few seconds before asking her, “Did we miss anything?”

Beth crosses her arms over her chest before staring at the ceiling.  I chuckle because while she thinks everything over, she nibbles on her lip and taps her foot on the floor in a steady staccato beat. 

A moment later she stands straight and asks, “To your knowledge did Dominic know what either of you are?”

Lisa scowls and with a hand on her hip says, “No way, that boy was not mature enough to know our secret.  He was the type who would have used the knowledge as leverage in an argument, so I never told him, and I doubt Emma told him for the same reason.  Protecting our secret is the number one rule, or at least it is until the revelation at the beginning of the summer, but for now, I wouldn’t risk myself or the community by telling Dominic what I am.”

Lisa pauses and then asks me, “Sheriff, you think Emma killed Dominic?”

I sigh and tell her, “Yes, I believe so.”

I don’t tell her I have an eyewitness because I’ll save that for the trial.  She puts both hands on her hips and then asks, “If that’s the case, why didn’t she tell you?  I mean the humans were all over this…?”

I shrug and tell her, “You can be certain that’s one of the many questions I’ll be asking her when I see her.  If you would refrain from telling anyone what you know or even that you and I spoke about this until after I bring formal charges against her, I would appreciate it, and if necessary, I’ll order you as your sheriff to keep your mouth shut.”

She pouts and moves one hand to her chest before saying, “Come now, Josef, we’ve known each other for over 350 years.  When have I ever spoken out of turn or required someone in a position of authority to order me to keep my mouth shut?  The only reason I told _you_ about Emma is _you’re_ my Sheriff.  If you were just some random vampire off the street, I wouldn’t have even dignified your questions with a response.”

I exhale a heavy breath and tell her, “I know, I’m sorry.  I’m just antsy.  The human authorities got a bit too close for comfort, and I don’t want Emma finding out I know until I speak with her and Jackson.”

Lisa gives me a soft smile and says, “You’re forgiven.  And don’t worry, no one will hear about this from me.”

I tip my head towards her and say, “Thank you.  I won’t forget your continued discretion.”

She just inclines her head, so I put my hand in the small of Beth’s back again and begin leading her off the court.  Beth calls over her shoulder, “Have a wonderful day.”

Lisa beams at her and says, “For the record, I’m jealous Josef, but if anyone else had to get this human for him or herself, I’m glad it’s you.  I think you both suit each other, and I wish you both the type of maker/childe relationship _you_ have with _your_ maker, Josef.”

I beam before telling her, “Thank you, Lisa.”

She gives us a tiny wave, so I guide Beth back across the court and lead her towards the stairs.

When we get outside, and into my Ferrari, I glance at the clock on the dash and tell Beth, “It’s 11:10.  Lunch hour traffic will mean by the time we get to my office it should be just before noon.  That should give us time to collect our thoughts while you eat your lunch.”

She puts on her seatbelt and then leans back in her seat, so I hand her my phone and tell her, “My maker is number two on my speed dial.  Call him and ask him to meet us at my office.  Tell him I’ll fill him in when he gets there but I want to get to the office as soon as possible, so you have time to eat in peace.”

I turn the car on, and she tilts her head to the side before she says, “I can wait if necessary, Josef.”

With a shake my head, I pull out of the parking spot before heading towards my office downtown and telling her, “That won’t be necessary.  You and the little ones should have plenty of time to eat to your fill before we need to deal with this mess.”

She gives a slow nod and then makes the call.  When my maker answers, he says, “Josef, I was expecting your call later today.”

Beth fidgets in her seat and clears her throat before saying, “Uh, grandsire, it’s Beth.  Josef is driving and asked me to call you for him.”

The roof of the car is up due to the sun being out.  So, I don’t have to struggle to hear him over the wind, so his grin is evident when he says, “Very well, childe, what has he asked you to tell me?”

She smiles slightly and says, “We’re meeting with our suspect at 1 p.m. at Josef’s office.  He requests that you come before that if you can.  I think he wants to run what we know by you and make sure we haven’t accidentally missed something that might be important.”

He chuckles and says, “With the two of you on the case, I highly doubt either of you has failed to turn over every stone.  Still, I am at a meeting a few streets away from Josef’s building, so I will meet you there shortly.”

She brushes her hair behind her free ear and then says, “Okay, thank you and um, I have some questions for you if you have some time afterward.  I don’t think anyone but you and Josef should be present for these questions, and I want you to know that your answers won’t change anything.  I just have this burning desire to know everything I can about, well, everything, and, honestly, I’ve been that way my whole life, and so I just want to know if I’m reading you right, but if I am, I won’t hold that against you… or Josef.  I just need to know for my peace of mind.”

He laughs when she stops and takes a deep, audible breath.  He pauses for a minute probably to see if she’s done and then asks, “Are you finished?”

She snickers into the phone and then says, “Yes, Sir.”

His smile is still evident in his voice when he says, “I can’t imagine what you wish to ask me, but I will do my best to answer your questions.”

If she’s talking about what I think she’s talking about, then he’s correct, and he has no clue.  If I’m right, he’s going to be pleasantly surprised, and if she approaches this the proper way, she’s going to earn his respect even more than she already has.  He will realize once and for all that we are extremely fortunate, she will be of our line even with the delay caused by her pregnancy.

She sighs and says, “Thank you, Grandsire.  I realize you’re not in the habit of answering questions, so I appreciate your willingness to answer mine.”

He chuckles again and says, “I know, and that is the only reason I’m going to entertain your questions.  I do reserve the right to refuse to answer.  However, I can’t foresee a situation where I would do that.”

She rubs her free hand back and forth along the length of her leg and says, “Okay, I can wait, so whenever is convenient for you, just let me know, and I’ll ask my questions.”

In my mind, I imagine him wearing a pleased smile on his face, so I beam when he says, “Very good, Childe, I will conclude my business here and meet you and Josef at his office in 40 minutes.”

He hangs up a moment later, and she breathes deeply and then slowly releases it through her nose.  I reach over and squeeze her hand before asking, “You’re planning to ask him if he’s using my crime to give me what I wanted most in the world in the guise of punishment?”

She nods and sits further back into her seat before saying, “Yes, like I told him, it won’t change anything.  I still want to become your childe, and I’ll still like and respect both of you.  I just want to know if I’m right, and maybe I’m better off not knowing, but it’ll bother me until I know for sure either way.  Even if curiosity killed the cat, well, I’ve been this way my whole life and I’m gonna die and become a vampire eventually anyway so…”

I laugh and give her hand another squeeze before releasing her hand and shifting gears while telling her, “I don’t think asking will get you killed.  If your suspicion is correct, your figuring it out will earn you his respect because you figured it out on your own and especially because you barely know him and don’t know me much more than you know him.  If you manage to ask and not accuse, I don’t see any way this can end badly.”

She just grins and then sits back in her seat before reaching over and placing her hand on top of mine on the gear shift.  We ride the rest of the way in comfortable silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve heard the theory about hollow fangs from several places but the person who introduced me to the idea was Robin M.  Not sure who came up with it first, but it makes sense to me, so I used it here.
> 
> Also, a special thank you to Robin M., laurenj15, Luner Kat, pyrodaemon, brooklyn4 and all the other betas I’ve ever worked with for continually poking my Muse in the side with a pointy stick and giving her innovative ideas to work with.  I would not tell my stories as well as I do, and I would not enjoy writing them so much if it weren’t for all of you and your hard work.  So, with soul-deep gratitude, thank you.


	11. Warm Fuzzies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter once again has direct and paraphrased quotes from Moonlight.  I think they all come from Episode 16, ‘Sonata’ this time.  These words belong to whomever owns all things Moonlight, not me.

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Chapter 011**

**Warm Fuzzies**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Saturday, February 02, 2008; 11:55 a.m. PST**

**Josef Kostan Industries, Los Angeles, California**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

We arrive at my office building at five of noon.  I park the car in my reserved spot and help Beth from the vehicle, guiding her to the floor my office is on. 

When John Whitley, my beloved Sarah’s father, found her journals after his wife died and discovered my secret, he believed I had outright murdered Sarah because she simply vanished after I unsuccessfully tried to turn her.  He spent the next two years trying to find me, so he could avenge her. 

Once he found me, he sent an assassin with instructions to burn me up.  Fortunately for me, the killer, Ralph Martan, didn’t completely follow orders, though, and prefaced his attack with shooting up my office with a full magazine clip, which allowed me just enough time to grab my two friends, who were playing cards with me at the time, and jump out the already shattered window.

Mick and I eventually discovered Sarah’s father was responsible when Martan came back to finish what he started.  I fled and returned to New York, so I could make sure Sarah was safe.  After Martan tried to kill me a third time but only succeeded in staking me for a moment or two before Mick killed him, I went and visited Mr. Whitley and glamoured him to forget I ever existed.  Now he believes his daughter simply vanished and the case went cold.  It’s not an ideal resolution, but it _is_ better than the 93-year-old spending his twilight years continually trying to kill me for something I didn’t exactly do.

I also retrieved all of Sarah’s journals and personal effects, which Mr. Whitley had kept in their entirety.  This way if Sarah does ever wake up, she’ll have things that are familiar to her, and no one will throw her belongings out when her father inevitably dies of old age.  He has no other living relatives, so I had him rewrite his will and leave everything to an alias I made for Sarah that everyone will believe is her granddaughter.  I couldn’t let his estate just sell off her family’s legacy to the highest bidder and the funds donated to charity, not if there’s a chance she might one day wake up, and Daphne thinks there is a chance.

However, while Martan failed to kill me, he was incredibly successful at destroying my office.  I had to gut the whole place and rebuild and then redecorate everything.

That was a nightmare in and of itself because my interior decorators were too focused on thinking Rat Pack, George Clooney style instead of thinking about Josef Kostan’s style.

Fortunately, the remodel is complete as of Tuesday, and it couldn’t have happened sooner.  And no, I didn’t toss my designers in the La Brea Tar Pits, though I can’t say it wasn’t profoundly tempting on occasion. 

Vincent had all my new furniture put where it goes on Wednesday, and after two months of renovations, I am at long last very happily free of the dreaded drywall dust, which gets everywhere and is stubborn enough to resist a proper hand washing.

I tilt my head at Vincent when we reach the lobby of my office.  Before we pass him at his desk, I tell him, “Give us a minute for Beth to get settled and begin eating her lunch.  My maker will be arriving shortly—”

Vincent interrupts, “He’s already in your office, Sire.”

I hook my thumbs in the belt loops on my jeans, “Good, so give us three minutes then come in, and I’ll fill you and my maker in on what we’ve discovered.”

He nods, so I push gently on the small of Beth’s back, but she resists and goes digging into her bag.  She pauses and shakes her head a couple of times and jingling reaches my ears before my gaze lands on what she’s trying to retrieve. 

A moment later she pulls a string of tiny bells from her purse and hands it to Vincent who quirks an eyebrow at her. 

She beams at him, “You said you’d be here with bells on, and I wouldn’t want my future big brother to be a liar, so you can borrow my bells.”

He lets loose a bark of laughter and then puts the necklace on.  He lifts it off his chest and jingles it a bit.  Then he chuckles and says, “Thank you, future sister.”

She grins.  Then she turns and precedes me into my office.  My maker stands when we enter, “Children.  Good to see you.  Beth, you are looking better than last night.  Your health has improved?”

She breaks away from me, sitting at the table in the middle of my office.  She opens her lunch bag and begins removing her lunch, “I’m feeling much better, Grandsire.  Thank you for asking.”

He smiles at her while I sit down and glance around my office.  There’s another mural on the ceiling by the same artist who did the original one.  He’s a vampire I’ve known for a few centuries, and he usually paints my ceilings for me.

This mural is an interpretation of The Morrígan done in warm tones.  With the revelation looming on the horizon I felt it best to include some of my history in my place of business so when the time comes it’ll be at the ready, and it will pique the humans’ curiosity and add to my overall mystique.

The rest of the office is relatively modern.  There’s a lot of black and gold.  The furniture has clean lines, though, the room off to the side of this one has more comfortable furniture such as couches.  This room only has my desk, Rider’s workstation with his computer set up, the table Beth is currently sitting at, and six straight-backed chairs, one of which I’m sitting on.

I lower my gaze to my desk and glance at a stack of papers Vincent must have put on my desk when he got here.  When I left the office Wednesday morning, my desk, the one piece of furniture that was already in the office, was clear, and he’s been bringing me the important things I needed to review at my house the rest of this week, so these must have just arrived today.

I only skim over the paperwork before placing it back on my desk to read more thoroughly later.  My maker sits in the chair in front of my desk, and after crossing his legs, he nods towards the papers, “Nothing pressing?”

I shake my head, “No, just some paperwork I need to sign.  I’ll read it over and sign everything once we’ve dealt with our suspect.”

He inclines his head, and after taking a deep breath, he smirks, “She’s had more of your blood.  I can smell it and the faint scent of demon and faerie.  It’s not enough most would notice or even be able to recognize it, but I can.”

Beth’s large eyes glimpse away from her sandwich while she unwraps it, “Does—does it smell bad?”

Jorge chuckles and says, “On the contrary.  Your scent is even better than it was yesterday, and on the plus side Josef’s blood gives you enough of his scent that once you smell fully of demon and faerie, his added scent should keep others from wanting to taste you.”

He pauses then adds with a soft snicker, “Or I should say, it’ll keep them from trying at least.  Even now, with only a bit of demon and faerie in your scent, you smell delicious enough to eat, but all but a rare few will know better than to even contemplate the possibility.”

She nods and takes a bite of her sandwich, moaning, “Mmmh, will you both think less of me if I tell you my taste buds are kind of pleased there will be a delay in my turning?  Susan’s food reminds me of my mom’s cooking and is out of this world.  The fact I’m going to get to enjoy it for at least three years and eight months more, well, it’s welcome news, and I’m pretty stoked about it.”

Jorge and I both glance at her and chuckle, shaking our heads.  A minute later my maker turns back to face me, “Beth is eating, so why don’t you fill me in on what the two of you have learned.”

I lean over my desk and buzz Vincent telling him, “Please come into my office so you can be briefed with my Maker.”

Ten seconds later Vincent enters the room.  My maker raises his eyebrow when Vincent jingles while he strides into the room.  He’s a master at being completely silent when he wants to be, so I hold in a snigger at the fact he’s stepping loudly to intentionally jingle.  He gets his reward though when Beth giggles.

Vincent stands behind my chair and just slightly to my right, ever my right hand man while Jorge gazes between the three of us with a smirk, which only makes Beth giggle harder.  Between bursts of laughter, she quickly explains the significance of the bells.

Vincent and I are both sniggering by the end of her explanation, so Beth just shrugs, “Hey, no brother of mine is going to lie to our sire if I can help it.”

My maker nods slowly, and without cracking so much as a smile, he says, “It’s an excellent sign that Beth is already watching out for those of her future line.”

Beth just grins, and then we take turns filling Jorge and Vincent in on everything we’ve learned since discovering Dominic’s body.  When we finish our recitation my maker’s vein in his forehead is noticeably pulsing with his vampire slow heartbeat.  A scowl etches across his face before he leans towards me and asks, “Emma is the killer?”

I release a heavy breath, “Yes.”

He tilts his head to the side, “She’s never been brought before me for any crimes.  You kept a close eye on her after you discovered her at the fights and learned her sire abandoned her.  In that time has she shown a tendency to bend or break the law?”

I shake my head and sit forward before folding my hands on top of my desk, “Not at all.  She’s been the epitome of law-abiding and respectable.  In fact, I’m quite certain the only reason she didn’t report what had happened is she doesn’t want Jackson to discover her betrayal.”

My maker inclines his head before Beth swallows her bite of food and then asks, “Uh, do you have a soundproof room where you can warn Jackson.  I mean I know I’m just the resident human or mortal or whatever I am now, so my opinion might not be as valuable—”

I nod until she gets to the part about her opinion not being valuable then I begin shaking my head and interrupt her, “Your opinion is just as valuable as everyone else’s in this room, and you’re to be my childe so—”

She raises her hand in a hold on gesture, interrupting, “I know, but everyone outside of this room currently believes I’m human and even though I am, in fact, a supernatural, I’m not a vampire.  I think Jackson is just as much a victim as Dominic.  If you can warn him away from her without tipping her off, it might ease his embarrassment, but I don’t think I should be present when you tell him because I get the impression most vamps don’t think very highly of humans.”

I exhale a heavy sigh, but before I can respond she adds, “No man is going to want witnesses when he discovers the woman he loves and trusts above all others has betrayed him the way Emma has, and I think a vampire man specifically wouldn’t want a supposed human present to see his initial shame.”

She leans forward in her seat, “I’m not saying I shouldn’t be present for Emma’s questioning.  I’m just saying take Jackson aside and tell him in private.  Then both of you can rejoin us, and we can question her once he’s had a moment to absorb and sort out the betrayal in his head without having an audience watch him do it.”

She pauses but then says, “Think about it, Josef.  You’re his friend, right?”

I incline my head, so she smiles gently, “So, he’d probably rather hear the unwelcome news from you.  I’ll stay with my grandsire because I’m sure neither of you wants me anywhere near Emma alone, and after Jackson’s processed what she did, we can ask Emma what happened.”

Jorge leans forward in his seat and tells me, “She makes several good points, Childe.”

I breathe deeply again despite not needing oxygen at all.  Then I lean back in my chair and glance over my shoulder.  Addressing Vincent, I tell him, “Buzz me when Jackson and Emma get here and send Jackson in alone.  Keep an eye on Emma.  She’s a flight risk if she spooks, so she doesn’t leave your sight until she comes in here.”

With a frown firmly planted on his face, he says, “Of course, Sire.”

I add, “And Beth is going to be in the lobby with you both so Emma doesn’t get anywhere near my future childe, understood?”

Even though I’m not gazing at him straight on while I’m talking the glower in Vincent’s voice is obvious when he says, “That goes without saying, Sire.  So far as I’m concerned, no one gets near my future baby sister without your say so and especially not a vampire suspected of committing crimes against the community.”

I chuckle and ask, “Your future baby sister huh?”

He laughs and crosses his arms, nodding, “Uh huh, and don’t you forget it, Sire.  Us childer have got to stick together.  Besides I’ve seen enough of her to know she’s beyond worthy of becoming your childe.  She will do your line proud, and I intend to do everything in my power and help her do just that.”

I release a soft breath, “Thank you, Childe.”

Beth grins and says, “Yes, Vincent, thank you.”

He smiles from ear to ear, “My pleasure.” He pauses then asks, “Do you need anything before the Monaghans arrive?”

I shake my head, “No, that will be all.  When I tell you everyone may come back into the office, I wish for you to come with them.  As my second-in-command, you should be present for the questioning.”

He nods.  Then he heads towards the reception area to wait for Jackson and Emma to arrive with a bounce in his step, sending his necklace jingling, which prompts Beth to giggle again.

I smirk at the evidence that Beth is going to fit into my little family quite nicely.  Then I lift the first stack of papers off my pile and read while my maker scrolls through something on his phone and Beth spends her time eating.  She moans a few times causing me to snicker quietly.   Even my maker smiles every time she releases a low moan of pleasure.

At five minutes to one, Vincent buzzes me and informs me, “Master, the Monaghans are here.”

I grimace and tell him, “Once Beth and my sire are in the lobby, send Jackson in first.”

His voice is grim, “Of course, Sire.”

Beth stands, throws out her lunch trash, and then my maker escorts her to the lobby.  My stomach rolls despite not having had food in it in millennia, and the phantom feel of sweaty palms is back. 

My stomach feels like it has an anvil in it weighing it down when 30 seconds later Jackson slouches into my office.  His shoulders are uncharacteristically stooped, and his face is downturned and has crease lines that aren’t usually present, which tells me he’s been ruminating over my call ever since we hung up.  He doesn’t make eye contact either, which isn’t typical of him on an average day.  Does he already have an idea where this is going?  Do I want him to?  Or would it be better to blindside him?

I motion him to the seat my sire was sitting in earlier and tell him, “Please, sit, Jackson.”

He sits, and I rise and walk around my desk, leaning against the front of it a few feet from him.  With a frown marring my face, I tell him, “First, know _you_ have done nothing wrong.  That’s not why you’re here.”

I cross one foot over my outstretched leg and then bite the bullet, “That said, I have some unwelcome news.  Beth and I have been investigating Dominic’s death to make sure the humans didn’t start asking inconvenient questions of the wrong people.  During our investigation, it came to our attention that Emma had an affair with Dominic and she killed him, likely in a fit of anger.”

His eyes pop open wide, and he’s shaking his head, so I soldier on, “If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say she discovered he was also sleeping with Lisa and lost her temper.  Anyway, my future childe thought it best I tell you all of this in private, so you can process it without being in a fishbowl.”

When I stop talking, he says, “There’s no way.  She wouldn’t do that to us, to me.  You’re wrong, you must be.  Josef—”

I sigh but interrupt him, “There was a witness.  Hank Bishop witnessed her not only having sex with Dominic but killing him, too.  Detective Murphy, who is one of ours, interviewed him and glamoured the information from him before making him forget what he saw.”

He’s shaking his head again, so I tell him, “He said he saw fangs and didn’t think she was human, so I think that lends credence to his account.  I also spoke with someone who saw Emma exit Dominic’s building in the last couple of months, and when the witness entered Dominic’s apartment, she could smell Emma’s sex all over him.”

His shoulders slump, but he doesn’t respond verbally so I scowl and tell him, “There is, unfortunately, no doubt in my mind she has both cheated on you and killed a human in an extremely public setting without warning me so I could glamour everyone from the start.”

He exhales slowly and sits back in the chair with his shoulders still slumped before asking, “What will you do to her?”

It’s my turn to breathe deeply again, “If Emma had killed him and then told me either that night or the next day when no humans were around, I would have concealed it for her and encouraged her to come clean to you.  Instead, she allowed the humans to ask questions we can’t afford to have asked with the revelation looming on the horizon.”

I uncross my legs and plant my feet on the ground, leaning forward, “Not only that, but she killed a human and didn’t safeguard our secret at an event attended by The North American Magister.  That means Jorge has had an active interest in this case.  He decided long before we knew Emma was the killer that if a Vampire were involved, he’d bring formal charges against him or her.”

Jackson sits forward on the seat, “She can’t be held accountable for what was probably just an accident.”

I cross my arms over my chest, leaning back, and my frown deepens, “You’re right, and that’s not what she’s being held accountable for.  Humans are a dime a dozen and the Authority, my sire, and I don’t care if a vampire kills a human, provided the human doesn’t already belong to another supe and the vampire conceals it and protects our secret.  That’s why my sire and I created the Cleaners’ Service and made it a worldwide service.  Accidents happen, all the time, in fact, but not covering it up was a choice, not an accident.”

I lower my arms and grip the edge of my desk while I lean against it, “No, this isn't about the human.  This is about Emma’s failure to inform me our secret was in jeopardy.”

Scowling, I add, “Hell, she didn’t even need to tell _me_ , she could have called the cleaners herself, and they would have snuck in and kept my freshie from ever discovering his body.  He was high profile so it would have been more challenging than usual to remedy the situation, but difficult doesn’t mean impossible.  She _chose_ to do nothing and by doing so put us all in danger.”

His hands are resting on his knees, and when he raises one and rubs the back of his neck, it trembles.  I release another jarring breath and tell him, “Until the revelation, our secrecy is all we have.  It's all that keeps us alive.  We’re not announcing the successful creation of synthetic blood until next week, which means if the humans had discovered us this week, we’d have had nothing to show we’re not a threat to them.  Plus, if they had discovered our existence due to one of us killing a human, it would have been a public relations nightmare.”

Jackson nods, albeit slowly, but he’s still nodding, and I’m not surprised when he asks, “What will your Sire do to her?”

I shrug, “Based on how he’s dealt with similar cases I would wager he’ll give her a hefty fine, stake her for a period and because he’s particularly upset with her and her lack of action he’ll probably order her fangs pulled.  He may or may not physically punish her, too.”

Jackson sits back in his seat and releases a heavy breath, “He won’t end her?”  Clearly, his sigh was one of relief, but his tense muscles indicate he realizes the situation is serious even if it won’t cost Emma her life.

I shake my head, “No, if she had threatened to expose us to the humans and name names then her life would be forfeit but failing to conceal a single crime is not grounds for execution.  As I said, the human is not the issue, it’s the failure to take steps to protect our secret that is the punishable offense.”

He nods so I stand, looking down at him, “If she makes a habit of doing this, then she might be subject to execution.  As a first-time offender, the fine, stake, physical punishment, and removal of her fangs will be enough not only to teach _her_ the lesson but to send a message to the community.”

I cross my arms and continue, “We want everyone to know if they ever find themselves in a comparable situation they should immediately come to me or call the cleaners and not allow the humans to start asking questions.”

I sit on the edge of my desk again and sigh, “Plus, she left her blood on Dominic.  One of my people destroyed the sample, but it was, until this morning, in the possession of the human authorities.  That means my man inside the police department had to get creative and have the sample, and all record of it, disappear so once we reveal ourselves, the humans won’t be able to put two and two together and get four.”

He slumps back in his seat, so I grimace, “Do you need a minute to process all of this before I bring her in here or are you ready for us to confront her?”

He exhales loudly and stands.  Then he begins pacing behind his chair.  Running his hand through his hair, he glances at me while he paces and asks, “Why would Emma cheat on me?  Have I not given her everything I have?  Every part of me is hers, I let her _turn_ me, and she just threw it all away.  Why?”

I frown and shake my head, “I don’t know, and I think only she will be able to answer that question.  Provided you don’t interfere with our questioning, I will allow you to ask her questions as well.”

He glances at me, so I tell him, “My maker and I don’t really care why she did it except in regards to how it affects you.  We’ll remand her into custody, put her on trial, and once we remove her fangs, we’ll stake her, so it’ll be a few years before you’ll get to talk to her.  As a courtesy, I’m willing to allow you to ask her whatever you want before we take her into custody.”

He stops pacing and nods to himself.  Then he turns and gazes at me and says, “Thank you, Old Friend.  I appreciate that and the fact you didn’t just spring this on me in front of everyone.”

I smile gently and tell him, “You have Beth to thank for that.  She was quite adamant I should tell you in private and especially without her presence.  She understands human _and_ vampire psyches better than most supes I think, and so she knew you wouldn’t want a human witness when I told you of Emma’s betrayal.”

His lips turn up at the corners so imperceptibly I barely notice it before he tells me, “Well then, I’ll be sure and thank her at some point, though, probably not today, so if you could express my gratitude for me until I’m comfortable discussing this with anyone else…”

After shifting while leaning against my desk, I tell him, “I’ll make sure she knows.”

He exhales another deep sigh and then says, “Thank you, Josef.”

I incline my head towards him, so he sits back down in the chair and says, “I think I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

I move the few steps to him and put my hand on his shoulder, “If you need to talk to a friend later, remember I’m more than your sheriff.  We’ve known each other for your entire vampire existence and then some, and I value you as a friend, so if you need to vent or just shout at someone who won’t get upset with you for doing such a thing, call me.”

He places his hand over mine and gazes up at me, nodding slightly, “I’ll keep that in mind.”  Pausing he then adds, “You’re a good friend.”

I smile and squeeze his shoulder again.  Then I let go and stride to my seat before buzzing Vincent and telling him, “Please show Emma in.”

Vincent says, “Of course, Master.”  Then he disconnects the call.

Twenty seconds later Vincent frog marches Emma into the room while my maker and Beth trail behind them.  I tilt my head and smirk before asking my childe, “What prompted your assisting her into the room?”

He pushes her away from him and towards my desk, glancing at me and then sneering at her while telling me, “She tried to make a run for it.  Fortunately, I’m older than her by more than 4,000 years, so I was fast enough to catch her before she reached the stairwell.”

I exhale a loud breath and rub the back of my neck while staring at Emma for a solid minute.  Then I sit forward in my seat, “Not smart, Emma, not smart at all.  First, you killed a human in an extremely public setting and didn’t warn me—”

She stands straight and interrupts me, “I didn’t—”

I hold up my hand and don’t let her finish the lie, “And, now, you’re trying to flee rather than accepting responsibility for your actions.”

I lean forward and put my elbows on my desk.  Clasping my hands together across the top of my desk, I say, “Hank Bishop saw you kill Dominic.  Incidentally, he also saw your fangs and knew you weren’t human, so care to try again?”

Her shoulders sag, and she hangs her head before shaking it.

I inhale deeply, and after exhaling slowly, I ask, “Now, I want to know exactly what happened from you.  This is your only chance to explain yourself so use it wisely.”

She stares at Jackson who hasn’t moved from his seat.  He hasn’t even glanced at her, instead choosing to focus his blank stare on the floor in front of my desk, so Emma’s hand rises towards him, “Jackson.  I'm so sorry.  I love you.”

He doesn’t acknowledge her words in any way, so she drops her hand, “I don’t even remember how it all started, but I’ve been sleeping with Dominic since his freshman year.  That night he pulled me aside and kissed me like he usually did at functions.  I think he enjoyed the danger of kissing a married woman where her husband might see.  Anyway, he kissed me, and I could smell Lisa all over him and taste the remnants of lipstick on his lips.”

She sighs and hangs her head before saying in a small voice, “I confronted him, and he admitted he has been sleeping with Lisa since his sophomore year.”

Her voice gets firmer, “I got angry.  While having angry sex, I forgot my strength… Jackson… I never meant to hurt you.”

Without looking up or even twitching a muscle, he asks in a flat voice, “Did you love him?”

She shakes her head vehemently, “Of course not.  It was nothing.”

Jackson’s blank stare slowly morphs into a glower before he sits forward and glances up at her, asking, “You threw away everything we built together, everything we were to each other.  You betrayed me for—for nothing?”   Every word out of his mouth is laced with gradually simmering heat.

She takes a step closer to him, “It wasn't about us...or you.  It was about me.  Being with Dominic, it made me feel young... until he dumped me for a younger model.  If only he knew the truth.  I'm sorry.  I know I screwed up, but it was an accident.”

His body sort of slumps in on itself before he corrects his posture and says, “Killing him might have been an accident, but sleeping with him for more than four years was anything but accidental.”

She steps another couple of inches closer and reaches for him again, “Please, Jackson.  I love you.”

He shakes his head and then stands and stares at me before asking, “Sheriff, Magister, Investigator, if you don’t need me for anything else, I need to not be here.”

I glance at my maker who inclines his head, so I nod, “Of course, you’re free to go.”

He turns and begins heading for the hallway.  I call out, “And Jackson?”

He stops and turns and looks at me.  I smile gently and remind him, “Remember my offer.  If you need to vent or scream, you just pick up the phone and call.  I’m also willing to get deliriously drunk with you if you’d prefer to do that.”

He chuckles, which was my goal and nods at me once before turning and leaving the room. 

Emma shouts, “Jackson, don’t leave me.”

He doesn’t turn back or even acknowledge he heard her.

Emma moves towards the door, but Beth is in her way, so she shoves Beth out of her way with far more force than is safe for a fragile mortal.  Beth wobbles while I hop over my desk and have Emma by the scruff of her neck before she can do more than push Beth.

Unfortunately, two vampires moving inhumanly fast mere inches from her causes Beth to stumble backward even more than Emma shoving her did, and she loses her footing.  She lands on her ass a moment later and lets loose a grunt.

I toss Emma across the room and straight into Vincent’s waiting arms.  Then I squat and observe Beth.  Her eyes are wide but other than the grunt when she landed she hasn’t made a sound.  I reach my hand towards her and stroke her soft cheek, “Childe, are you alright?”

She nods but still doesn’t say anything.  Her eyes fill with unshed tears, though, so I move to one knee, which brings me minutely closer to her and with a gentle tone ask, “Does anything hurt?  Did you break anything?”

She tilts her head to the side, and after a couple of seconds she shakes her head and says, “I don’t think so.  I—I just… got the wind knocked out of me.”

Her lip trembles, but she pulls it in between her teeth to squash it's tremoring, and despite her valiant effort to appear tenacious, a renegade tear escapes one of her watery eyes and trickles down her flushed cheek.  She huffs and pushes it away with the knuckle of her pointer finger and then adds, “Fortunately, my butt comes with extra padding so other than possibly having a bruised tush I think I’m okay.”

I snicker and ignore her traitorous tear, “Even so, would you be willing to drink my blood to make sure nothing’s broken?”

She brushes a lock of hair from her face, but at my question, she freezes mid-motion, and a blush creeps across her cheeks before she shakes her head with halting movements, “Um, no offense, but I’m not willing to do _that_ with witnesses in the room, not after this morning.”

My maker and I chuckle, and I reach out and squeeze her shoulder with a pleased smile on my face and tell her, “Once I’ve dealt with Emma, I’ll send everyone from the room, and I’ll give you my blood, how’s that?”

She shifts her gaze to the floor in front of her and says in a tiny, trembling voice, “I don’t want to be trouble?”

I stroke her cheek and raise her chin until our eyes meet, “You’re not trouble, Beth.  I am honored to have the pleasure of caring for and protecting you.  Healing you is just another aspect of that privilege.”

It takes her a moment to react but then she shrugs and says, “Then—then I guess that works for me.”

I run my thumb over the apple of her cheek before inching closer to her and putting one arm behind her back and the other under her knees.  Then I lift her and stand.  I stride to my desk and sit in my chair with Beth in my lap. 

She shifts around a bit and groans, so I quirk my eyebrow, and she says, “Sorry, I was serious about being bruised.”

I snicker, glancing away from Beth, and find my maker smiling at us and Vincent finishing shackling Emma with chains, which are magicked to withstand vampire strength.

I glower and tell Emma, “Attacking my future childe, who happens to be the Area Two Investigator was not a wise move.”

Emma hangs her head but makes no comment, so I tell her, “You will be staked,” Emma’s head snaps up, and her gaze meets mine, but I continue undaunted, “until the tribunal when the Magister will decide what to do with you.”

Her lip trembles and she whimpers because let’s face it, no vampire wants a stake in the heart.  There’s no way to protect yourself if you can’t move, but that’s kind of the point, and frankly, I don’t really care about Emma’s feelings at this point, not after she shoved Beth out of her way with little to no care as to how hard she was pushing.

I open my desk drawer and remove the stake I keep there for emergencies, handing it to my maker, “If you wouldn’t mind doing the honors until the trial.”

After taking hold of it, he stalks to Emma and plunges it through her heart without saying a word.

Vincent drops her, and she collapses to the floor.  Despite everything that just happened, I smile at my oldest childe and tell him, “Please put her in the holding cell.”

He inclines his head, so I stare at my maker and ask, “I assume the tribunal will be tonight unless you have more pressing concerns, Sire?”

My maker shakes his head and says, “Tonight will work.  Is your warehouse available?”

I nod, so he peers over his shoulder at Vincent switching the magicked shackles with silver coated, magicked restraints and making sure they’re tight enough because some vampires manage to move enough to pull a stake out.  Granted, that’s typically the older vampires with more power at their disposal. 

I smile, though, despite the stench of burning vampire flesh because another reason that I’d be lost without Vincent is his attention to detail and his habit of going the extra mile and making sure I get what I want and need, how I want and need it, when I want and need it. 

Jorge turns and looks at me, “Then we’ll convene for a tribunal at 9 p.m.  If you could be so kind as to send out notices to everyone.”

He pauses.  Then he smirks, “I will expect your future childe to be present.  After all, she is the Area Two Investigator, and this case would not have been solved so quickly or without the humans discovering our secret if it hadn’t been for Beth.”

He gazes at us for a moment and then says, “I will guarantee my future grandchilde’s safety, but I think it would be best to announce the pregnancy and Beth and her children’s heritage otherwise some vampires will take exception to her being so intimately involved in our world before her turning.  If they know she’s a supernatural even without her turning, it should smooth any potentially ruffled feathers.”

Beth and I glance at each other for a minute.  Then she inclines her head, so he smiles and says, “Well, in that case, I’ll go document everything we know, and what my ruling will be, so I can give the report to Roman as soon as the verdict has been handed down.”

I just watch him leave the room then I track Vincent’s movements while he hefts Emma into his arms and carries her from the room. 

Once they’ve both left, I observe Beth for a moment before grinning and telling her, “Alone at last.”

She giggles but her brow puckers and her eyes narrow, “No funny business, Josef.  In your, _our_ , home is one thing, but at your office is another thing entirely.”

I lean in close to her ear and purr, “When I have you for the first time it will not be on a desk or the floor, so don’t worry about me ravishing you here today, though I do reserve the right to repeat the actions of this morning and blow your mind with a kiss.”

She laughs again and nods slowly, so I bring my arm to my mouth and bite my wrist, presenting the wound to Beth.  She just stares at my bleeding wrist for a split second.  Then she grabs hold of it with both hands.  She swipes the injury with her rough little tongue.  Then she wraps her soft, warm lips around the wound and sucks.

Goddess, tiny sparks of energy shoot through my arm every time she takes a pull.  I don’t remember _that_ from this morning.  I moan and shift her on my lap, but this time instead of trying to keep her from feeling my excitement I grind her ass into my quickly growing erection.  She moans, and her hips undulate giving me just enough delicious friction.

When the wound heals she laps at the stray blood on my skin, and when she finishes, just like this morning, she stretches up and kisses me.  I shift her again, so her legs are straddling mine on the chair while our lips move against each other.  Reaching for the button on her pants, I pop it, pulling the zipper down before sliding my hand inside the waistband of her jeans, finding the top of her panties.  After skimming my hand over them, I move my fingers under the fabric.

She licks the seam of my lips, and I open my mouth to her questing tongue a moment after my fingers find her damp folds.  Slipping my fingers between them, I find her clit.

Her body jerks when I brush over it, and I begin rubbing it in quick circles while our tongues continue to glide against each other.  My fangs snap down, and with her tongue exploring my teeth, they brush against my fangs sending little sparks of heat shooting into my nerve endings.

A few seconds later the bouquet of her blood blooms in my mouth, and I use my free hand to pull her closer. 

A minute or two later when she pulls away and pants into my ear, I brush her soft tresses from beside her neck with my nose and lick her jugular before biting down.

Her body stiffens, and the tremors start, her muscles contracting while she cums.  Her orgasm adds hints of clover, cinnamon, and nutmeg to her blood's already spicy flavor, and my eyes roll back in my head.

I drink three swallows before her euphoric emotions slam into mine and what I just did dawns on me.  I gently remove my fangs from her flesh, bite my tongue, and lick the wounds until they begin to clot and fade to nothing.

When even my enhanced vision can barely tell where the punctures were, I pull away slightly and stare into her unfocused gaze, “Goddess, Beth, I’m sorry, I—”

She reaches with a trembling hand and places her fingers upon my lips and in between pants for air says, “Please don’t be sorry... _That_ was amazing.”

I cup her cheek in my hand and tell her, “Beth, what I just did, what I just started… mutually exchanging is quite different than my drinking your blood or you taking mine.  Three mutual exchanges will form a permanent blood bond.”

Her head kind of bobs as though she’s still in a daze, so I give her a minute before I tell her, “As I said last night, if we bond and then I turn you, we’ll never leave each other’s side.  We won’t be able to without causing ourselves extreme discomfort, and if we’re parted for long enough, it’ll be an outright pain.”

I stroke her cheek, then tell her, “I’m not sorry for being close to you or even for what we just did so much as I’m sorry we did it without my explaining the repercussions of our actions first.  Plus, there are other side effects to my drinking your blood and our mutually exchanging.”

She angles her head, “Such as?”

I shift her just a bit, so she’s sitting on my lap instead of straddling it.  Then I brush my hand along her cheek, “For starters, your drinking my blood allows me to know things about you.  I can feel your emotions.  I will be able to find you if you’re missing.  If a blood bond forms, both of those things will become permanent, and you’ll experience them too.”

Her eyes widen, and her jaw hangs open just a bit, so I nod, “For now, I can feel your emotions, but I can’t influence them.  If we bond, we’d both be able to influence the other’s feelings.  We wouldn’t be able to create emotions from nothing, but we could calm or acerbate a situation.  Bonding will also make proximity to each other feel the same as my sire or childer feels – it’ll bring us comfort.  I’m guessing based on our experiences so far it is also true just if you drink my blood, but I figure it’ll become permanent if we bond.”

She tilts her head and asks, “So to be clear, because we only mutually exchanged once you can feel me, but I can’t feel you, we can’t affect each other’s emotions, but it feels good to be close to you?”

I incline my head, so she nods once, “Then no harm, no foul.  I need to think about whether I’m willing to bond with you, but I’m okay with what we just did, provided we don’t form a bond without us both really thinking it over and agreeing beforehand.  I think you or the doctor said three mutual exchanges for the bond, right?”

I squeeze my arms around her, “Yes, three is the magick number.”

She smiles and brushes her hand against my cheek, saying, “Then we’ll just have to hold off on mutually exchanging again until I can sit down and make a list of the pros and cons of being bonded to you for all of eternity.”

I lean in and kiss her softly, just a gentle brush of lips before pulling back and asking, “You’re not angry?”

She grins and shakes her head, “God, no, the last thing I am is angry.  Josef, that was amazing, but um, you didn’t, um, get yours.”

I laugh, “Don’t worry about that, Beth.  I am perfectly content.”  It’s the truth too.  I didn’t orgasm, but I am perfectly satisfied at this moment.  Beth’s feelings are gently brushing against my own, and her calm acceptance of me soothes something inside me I didn’t even realize needed soothing.

She blushes and then leans in and kisses me again before leaning backward and tilting her hips, so she can rebutton and zip her pants.

On a whim, I raise my fingers to my mouth and suck the dried essence of her off them.  Big mistake.  The bouquet of her cum is like that of her blood, but the spicy warmth of the cloves mixes with the savory flavor of the cinnamon, and they’re both tied together with the earthiness of the nutmeg, which intertwines to make a sultry combination that has my erection once again pressing against the zipper of my jeans.

Beth's eyes go wide and dart from my fingers to my lips a couple of times.  Then she rolls her eyes and snorts, " _That_ should not be so hot."

I chuckle low in my throat and stroke her cheek, “You taste delicious, Beth.”

She ducks her head, “Thank you.”

I kiss her forehead, and after sitting back, I tell her, “I need to make sure Vincent knows to send out a notice to all the areas vampires about tonight, and I need to review the papers he left for me then we can go home and get ready.”

She grins and kisses my cheek before sliding off my lap.  She wobbles just a touch for a moment.  Then she gains her balance and ambles on what seems to be slightly rubbery legs to the table she sat at earlier.

She sits, and I smile at her flushed cheeks and the pleasant aroma of her essence hanging in the air.  I don’t want Vincent to come in here and experience it himself, but I can’t help it, so I adjust my much tighter than normal pants and pick up my phone, buzzing Vincent.

He enters a minute later, and his brows rise into his hairline, but he refrains from commenting on the delicious scent of Beth floating on the air.   I smirk, “If you haven’t already, I need you to send the notification so there will be witnesses to Emma’s shame.”

He nods and shifts on his feet, “I’m already typing it out, but I was going to have you read it over before I send it.  I’ll email it to you when I finish it, and you can make any changes.  Then I’ll send it to everyone.”

I snicker, “You’re well on your way to becoming an orange lifesaver.”

He laughs, “Blood Orange still sounds good to me.”

After I chuckle, he asks, “Anything else?”

I grin and lean back in my chair, “No, that will be all, thank you.”

He leaves so he can finish writing the notice.  I bring my hands behind my head and continue to lean back, observing Beth turning on her computer.  Her emotions are brushing gently against my own and bringing, what is it the humans say, oh yeah, it’s bringing warm fuzzies to my chest.

Shaking my head again to clear it, I drop my arms, sit forward, and lift the first packet of paper I need to read and begin going over the paperwork Vincent left on my desk earlier.


	12. Forever in Their Debt

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Chapter 012**

**Forever in Their Debt**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Saturday, February 02, 2008; 3 p.m. PST**

**Josef Kostan Industries, Los Angeles, California**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

An hour and a half later, I’ve approved the notice of tonight’s trial and read and signed all the paperwork on my desk.  I glance up from the last form requiring my attention and smile at Beth.  She’s sitting with her chin resting on her hand while she reads something on her computer screen. 

There is a steady current of excitement flowing into me from her, and a moment later she turns and gazes at me and in a soft, breathy voice says, “I think I know why Mick is in San Diego.”

I rise and saunter over to her before moving a chair from the far side of the table and sitting down next to her.  She turns her computer so I can view it better, and I examine the house on the screen.  The pistachio green paint job has seen better days, but the lawn is tidy, and the house itself appears to be in good repair.

I tilt my head to the right and ask, “Whose house am I looking at?”

She grins and bounces a little in her seat, “The house belongs to Michael Randall Haberkorn.  There is no record of him before February 01, 1985.  Now, Michael Randall was Mick’s father’s name, and Haberkorn is his mother’s maiden name.  The Michael Randall who owns this house has his birthday listed as January 14, 1985.  Bonus points if you can tell me the significance of that date.”

She stares at me with wide beguiling eyes, so I narrow mine and tell her, “November 15, 1922, is Mick’s birthday.”

She gives a gentle shake of her head.  No?  What other dates do I know for him?  I shrug, “Um, August 02, 1952 is the night Coraline and I first met Mick.  He and Coraline married on December 5th the same year, and he woke a vampire the next day.”

She doesn’t respond other than smirking at me, so I say, “He and I re-met on the evening of June 02, 1955.  But January?” 

She nods, so I need dates in January.  I snigger and tell her, “I lost a million dollars on Cincinnati in Super Bowl XVI on January 24, 1982.”

She giggles and leans towards me, “You remember the date of Super Bowl XVI?  Or is it you haven’t forgotten losing a million dollars?”

I chuckle and sit back in my chair, “For whatever reason when a person becomes a vampire they acquire eidetic memory, so I remember the dates of everything I’ve experienced either personally or been told secondhand.  It takes a while to sort through all my memories after almost 5,383 years and recall specific ones, but even without eidetic memory, I wouldn’t forget losing a million dollars.  I’m too attached to my money for that.”

Her eyes widen, “You remember everything you’ve experienced in the last 5,383 years?”

I grin and incline my head before shaking it and saying, “Give me a sec to figure out what happened in January of 1985.”

She waves her hand in front of her in a ‘go-ahead’ gesture, “Of course.”

What happened in January of 1985?  Lee Jay killed his second wife in February of 1983.

A light bulb goes off over my head.  Of course.  He met and rescued Beth in January of 1985, the 13th I believe, so I smile, “That’s the day after Mick thought he killed Coraline.”

She nods her head nice and slow, “You got it.  He returned me to my mother around 6 a.m. January 14, 1985.  I’ll give you three guesses as to the time of birth listed on Michael’s birth certificate, and the first two don’t count.”

I snicker and ask, “I’m guessing it’s in the six o’clock hour?”

She smirks and says, “Yup,” before she frowns and continues, “Anyway, I don’t know how aware you’ve been of my movements since I reconnected with Mick.  I know he stalked me after he brought me back to my mom, including after I discovered your secret, but I don’t know how much he shared with you.”

I shrug and tell her, “Not a lot.  I knew Mick was keeping tabs on you, but he didn’t spend our time together recounting your days if that’s what you mean.  No offense, but until I met you, I really had extraordinarily little interest in you or your daily comings and goings.  Once I met you, I felt the pull, and, therefore, made a concerted effort not to appear the slightest bit interested, so even though by that point I wanted to know everything there is to know about you, I kept my interest to myself.  Besides, I’d rather hear about your day from you, not Mick.”

She grimaces and says, “Sorry.  I wasn’t accusing you.  I mentioned it because in December I went to San Diego with Josh who had a D.A.’s conference to attend.  At the time I was trying to prove to myself I still loved Josh, so I agreed to go with him when he invited me.”

She shrugs but then sits forward and says, “I was, to my knowledge, unsupervised for the entirety of the four days, which gave me a bit more freedom.  I eventually used my temporary freedom to do some digging I’m quite certain Mick wouldn’t have approved of.  I spent the first morning in the hotel restaurant playing on my computer because it was pouring rain all day.”

She grins like a little girl, “Anyhow, I happened to click on my file of information on Mick and realized there were supplemental questions and interviews I could only answer or give while in San Diego so that afternoon and the following days I went and followed up on all my research.”

She points to the computer and says, “That’s relevant to this conversation because I discovered this house while there.  The previous owner was Marie Haberkorn.  It took some digging, but she never lived there, and no one ever saw her at the house.  The paper trail tells me she was the widow of Michael Randall St. John.”

She clicks her mouse, and an obituary appears on the screen before she faces me again, “She died in 1986 at the ripe old age of 83, and her next of kin put the house in a trust for her great-grandson Michael Randall Haberkorn.  Her real grandson, Mick’s nephew, never heard of Michael and he didn’t know anything about the house, so I told him I must have his family confused with another one and then left.”

I nod to show I’m following along, so she says, “I discovered from talking to the neighbors that a man in his early thirties whom most of the neighbors thought bore a striking resemblance to the circa 1950 photo I had of Mick, stayed at the house for two days every other month starting in March of 1986.”

I put my hand on hers on the table and tell her, “Mick went on trips every other month for two days at a time.  He’d change which days, but it was always every two months.”

She grins and sits back in her seat, saying, “I figured, so Rider gave all of my research to Celeste last night.  He must have given her my contact information because she just emailed me saying she’s talked to the neighbors who all reported that despite him being a month early the mystery man arrived this week.  Two of them mentioned calling the cops last night for a noise complaint.”

My eyes widen, but Beth just keeps going and says, “Celeste contacted the responding officers who said the occupant of the home said he was renovating and lost track of time.  He hadn’t realized how late it was and was sorry and would stop and begin again in the morning.  He came across as suspicious to the cops, so they ran the plate of the dark blue Tacoma sitting in the driveway.  It came up clean, but Celeste got the plate number, and now Jorge’s people have the details.”

I smile and pat her hand, “That’s great, Beth.”

She grins and says, “But wait, there’s more, Celeste is apparently as into covering all of her bases as I am, so she broke into the house.  No one was home, and the truck was absent, but Mick’s Mercedes is in the garage.  The neighbors reported the man filled his truck with a large sports duffel and two medium sized overnight bags this morning.  Then he drove off just before 9 a.m.”

She shrugs, “The house definitely belongs to Mick because Celeste didn’t need an invitation when she went inside the house.”

I nod, so she frowns a little and says, “While inside, she found a wall knocked down in the basement revealing a hidden space.”

What was he keeping behind a false wall?  I don’t have to wait long to find out because she continues her story by saying, “Celeste says it smelled heavily of money.  Now, according to Rider and Celeste, Coraline set Mick up with massive accounts and a gigantic investment portfolio right after she turned him.  I assume he took the money and stocks from her and not you because he felt _she_ owed him for turning him into a monster and accepting money from you would just be charity in his mind.”

I nod because it makes perfect sense, in his eyes anyway.  Beth exhales a deep breath and says, “Anyway, between June of 1956 and October of 1970 he withdrew $10,000 three times a week.  Once Congress passed the Bank Secrecy Act, he began withdrawing just $7,500 from his account three times every week.  He split two-thirds of it and put it into two different overseas accounts, but the other third just vanished.  I emailed Celeste and suggested he was squirreling away the missing third, and once he acquired this house, he put it into the hidden room every two months and he went there this week to collect all his money, at least $22.2 million, if I did my math correctly, to pay for the expenses associated with hiding from a nationwide manhunt.”

I grin and take hold of her hand, squeezing it gently, “You’re probably right about that.  I’ll have Rider keep an eye on the local banks and see if he opens any new accounts.”

She shakes her head and says, “He won’t.  He’s going to head towards Dallas.”

I tilt my head and ask, “I don’t doubt you, but how have you come to that conclusion?”

She smiles, and after releasing my hand, she leans towards her computer, fiddles with her mouse for a minute, and opens another document.

She zooms in on the deed to a house before turning and glancing at me and saying, “He owns another house in his sister’s name in Lewisville which is 9 miles outside of Dallas.  It’s the nearest of his properties to San Diego, so I figure even if he doesn’t stay long he’ll make a stop there.  Don’t worry.  I already sent the address to Celeste who says Godric is the Sheriff in Dallas and he’ll look into it.”

I chuckle, and she angles her head to the left and asks, “Um, why are you laughing?”

I calm my tittering and then say, “Because he’s going to get caught because on a whim you have so thoroughly researched him.  Tell me, future-childe-o-mine, who else have you researched so thoroughly?”

She shrugs and tells me, “You already know Mick and I researched you at the end of November and early December when Mr. Whitley tried to kill you.  Once we got your alias, Charles Fitzgerald, I dug up quite a bit about him, and Martan had all his research on you in his duffel bag in the alley behind Sarah’s townhouse that last time he tried to kill you.  Mick found it after I left, and he gave it all to me for safe keeping.  It and everything I dug up on you is in a safety deposit box in a bank downtown.”

She pulls her keys from her pocket and shows me what is obviously a key to a safety deposit box and says, “I keep the key on me pretty much all the time just to be safe.  Mick asked me to shred the files, but I was afraid Josh would walk in on me doing it and ask questions I couldn't afford for him to ask.  I didn’t want to risk going to work with all that information on me to shred it there, either, so I figured the safest place for it would be a safety deposit box where only I would be able to access it.”

She shrugs and releases a heavy breath before saying, “Now, Josh isn’t an issue anymore, but I figure it’s in a safe place and removing it to shred it might be asking for trouble.  I’m basically living the motto if it isn’t broke don’t fix it.”

I grin, so she nods and says, “Anyway, now you’re the only one besides me who knows I didn’t destroy it.  I didn’t read any of it beyond what I read to find you in New York.  Once we found you, I stopped digging, and I never bothered to read Martan’s file on you.”

I nod but say, “You can if you want, and then ask me whatever questions you have.”

She tilts her head, so I smile, “I was serious about not keeping secrets from you.”

She puts her keys back in her pocket and says, “Hmm, maybe some other time, but much like you, I’d rather hear your history from your own mouth than read about it in a sterile report compiled by an assassin who intended to murder you in cold blood.”

She pauses and then tilts her head before asking, “By the way, how _did_ you survive the explosion?  Your friends didn’t, but you did, and I can’t figure out how.”

I grimace at the reminder of that night and the unbelievably close call all three of us had but say, “Tim and Dan survived.”

Her eyes widen.  Then she narrows them and asks, “But I thought they died.  You said you’d donate money in their names but then said you couldn’t because everyone thought you were dead, too.”

I shake my head, “I know what I said, but if you think back, I didn’t actually reply to your question instead I deflected and said I’d donate money in their name before pointing out that I couldn’t because everyone thought I was also dead.  I basically lied without actually saying anything untruthful.  Anyway, I kept their survival a secret following the explosion to help keep them safe.  While I didn’t suspect you or Mick of being involved, I figured the fewer people who knew the truth, the safer they’d be.”

She nods so I reach for her hand again and then say, “I brought them to one of the safe houses I helped them prepare for an emergency.  Then I came to Mick’s because I figured the attack happened at my place of business, so I was probably the target, and you and Mick would be the people who could discover who was responsible.”

She inclines her head, so I stroke her knuckles with my thumb and say, “Tim and Dan are much younger than me.  Tim is just over 350, and Dan is only 225 years old.  Older than Mick but obviously significantly younger than me.  When Martan came into the office, he fired a full magazine clip into the room first, which cracked all the windows.  When he threw the grenades into the office, I had just enough time to grab Tim and Dan and throw them over my shoulders before jumping through the window onto the balcony and then jumping to the ground below.”

Her eyes get wide and round, “Josef, this office is on the 77th floor.”

I just nod, “I know.  When Martan fired into the room we dove for cover and Dan hit his head, so he was unconscious when I jumped.  Even though they dove in the opposite direction than I did, I couldn’t leave them behind, so I took the time and grabbed them before jumping.”

I shrug and squeeze her hand gently, “I’ll admit I hadn’t jumped from so high before and certainly not with the extra weight of two grown men added to mine, but it was either risk breaking my bones by jumping or die because he set the place and us on fire.  I chose to jump and for the record, the landing hurt but nothing broke, and I just stood straight and walked away.”

She narrows her eyes and asks, “Tim and Dan are okay, though?”

I incline my head, “They are, but I’m surprised Mick didn’t tell you.  I kept their survival a secret at first for their protection, but once I knew Sarah’s father was to blame and he wasn’t a threat anymore, I told Mick that Tim and Dan were fine.  Plus, once Martan was dead, and after Mick and you left Sarah’s brownstone, I called and told them it was safe, and they went home.”

She glowers and says, “I wish he told me.  I would have wanted to know your friends were alright.”

I reach over and take her other hand in mine before squeezing them both gently and telling her, “That’s part of what makes you so extraordinary.  You care about people, even those you don’t personally know.”

She grins and says, “So says the man who jumped 77 stories to the ground below with two guys in his arms.”

I smile and tilt my head to the side and say, “One over each shoulder, but yes.  I couldn’t leave them behind if I could help it.”

She tightens her hold on my hands and says, “That right there is a large reason why I’m willing to become your childe.  You’re loyal, and even at significant risk to yourself, you do your best to protect those you care for.  I’m blessed to be counted among those few people.”

I release one of her hands and reach out and stroke her cheek, “You’re not the only one who’s blessed.”

A rose hue blooms across her cheeks and travels down to her neck.  Just how far down does the blush go?  I drag my mind away from my interest in seeing how far down it goes in Technicolor and instead ask, “Godric will investigate Mick’s other property?”

She nods and says, “Yes and I made sure Celeste knows where to look in my notes for the list of all the properties in the United States I’m 99% sure belong to Mick.  I have seventeen definites and four maybes.  I have twelve properties outside the US, four in Canada, four in Mexico and one each in Lima, London, Paris, and Barcelona I’m 90% sure are Mick’s, too.”

She shrugs again, “Anyway, in her return email, she said she has contacts near all of the properties who will be more than willing to keep an eye out for Mick making an appearance.”

I grimace because the longer it takes for us to catch Mick, the harder my sire is going to go on him once caught.  There’s nothing I can do about it for now, though, so I release a heavy exhale, “Are you ready to get out of here?

She smiles and says, “Only if you’ve done everything you need to do.  I don’t want you to rush on my account.”

I rise and return my chair to its usual spot at the table and tell her, “I’ll be ready in just a moment.”

She begins closing down her computer, so I return to my desk and sit before I close down my own computer, gathering all the papers I signed and putting them into my outbox.

When I’m done, I rise from my desk chair and saunter towards Beth just before she finishes putting her stuff into her bag.  She stands, and I pull her into a hug.  She pauses for a split second.  Then she brings her arms around me.  I bury my face in her blonde curls and ask, “Are you feeling better since I gave you my blood?  No bruise on your fine ass?”

She giggles and shakes her head, “No I don’t think I have a bruise.”

I squeeze her just slightly tighter and whisper into her ear, “I’d be happy to check for you if you need me to.”

She laughs again but says, “I think I’m good Josef, but thank you.  Um, I have a question, um, you’ve kind of implied you plan to sleep with me—”

I pull back from our hug and grasp her upper arms, staring her in the eyes and cutting her off, “I have unequivocally stated that if you’re interested, I will gladly have sex with you.  No kind of about it, Beth, and, for the record, I’ll fuck you as often as I’m physically able to if that’s your wish.”

I give her arms a gentle squeeze and smirk at her, “I recall hearing somewhere pregnant women go through a horny phase at some point in their pregnancies.  I will be more than happy to scratch that itch for you when the time comes.  In fact, I’m kind of looking forward to seeing just how insatiable you’ll become and then reaping the benefits as much as possible for as long as it lasts.”

Her eyes widen, and her brows shoot into her hairline, but she says, “Okay, so you’re definitely interested, and I’m interested, but when you first mentioned it we were working under the assumption I’d be a vampire within the next week.  Um, but now it’s going to be almost four years before I turn, but you’re still interested, and I thought humans and vampires can’t have sex together, but your comments about pregnancy hormones imply you don’t plan to wait until I’m turned, so I’m confused.  I only ask because I don’t want to do anything that will harm my babies, and Mick unequivocally said sex between humans and vampires is inadvisable because it _never_ ends well.”

I exhale a sharp breath and turn us around, so my back is to her chair.  Then I sit down, pulling her onto my lap.  Once she settles, I brush her hair from her face and say, “Sex between the species is possible and enjoyable by both parties.  The human just needs to be willing to be bitten because most vampires bite down when they cum.”

She tilts her head but doesn’t respond, so I continue my explanation while praying it doesn’t freak her out, “Some younger vampires, as in under a few years old, have had occasions where they took more blood than their partner could afford.  They either injured or killed them.  If something dangerous is going to happen, though, it usually happens the first couple of times a vampire has sex with mortals.  Once they’ve had a handful of sexual encounters with humans, any future relations with other non-vampires are safe.”

I cup her cheek, “For this reason, I often suggest new vampires have their sire present the first few times they have sex with mortals, not necessarily in the same room mind you, but nearby enough that they can prevent disaster and teach the childe control while they partially let go.”

She nods, so I incline my head and say, “Mick to my knowledge has been so scared of hurting humans that he never slept with a mortal after he turned, so in his mind, it never has a favorable outcome.”

I shrug, “I almost killed my first human lover two months after I turned, but my maker was present and stopped me before it was too late.  He was present every time I had sex with a human for two months before I was as confident as he was I would be able to bite but not drain my partner when I came.”

I bring both of my hands to her face and cup her cheeks, “If we have sex prior to you turning, I am certain you will be safe because I have never killed a mortal while having sex.”

She rests one of her hands over one of mine and chuckles lightly, “Maybe I should make a list of everything I think I know about vampires before running it all by you and getting the real story from you because all my vampire information comes from Mick.  I’m thinking after everything that’s happened he’s not really a reliable source, or, at least, not an objective source of vampire information.”

I release her cheeks and place my hands lightly on her hips, “Is there anything you want clarification on right now or do you literally need to make a list?”  I snicker at that last part.

She narrows her eyes and furrows her brow, clearly giving my question some thought.  A moment later her forehead smooths out, and she grins and says, “Well, I know you need to be near death and then drink your future sire’s blood to turn.  I’d also guess the standard vampire mythology got the three nights buried in the ground thing wrong based on the fact when you guys rescued me from Anders it had only been a few hours since I had seen Mick human and he was a vampire again when he killed Anders.”

I nod, so she angles her head and says, “And I know Mick gets his blood from the morgue via Guillermo, but you prefer fresh, straight from the vein if at all possible.”

I chuckle but incline my head towards her, so she shrugs and says, “I know there are a couple hundred vampires in L.A. and you’ve been hunted for thousands of years.”

I snort and shake my head, “More like 5,680 or so vampires in my area by my records as sheriff.  Mick always drastically underestimates our numbers.  I think he does it on purpose, though, I’m not sure why.”

I sigh a moment later and say, “As for the humans hunting us, that’s mostly true.  There have been periods in history where we peacefully coexisted with humans who knew of our existence, including when I was human, but mostly we’ve lived in secret.  Still, some of the more fanatical humans who discovered our secret have hunted us.”

I shift in my seat with her in my lap and say, “We typically put them down as quickly as possible, so they can’t terrorize other humans with stories of us and get a movement going.  That won’t work so well once we’re out in the open, so now that we’re going to reveal ourselves in modern times I think we’re going to have some fanatics who will want to hunt us, but I think many humans will be alright with our existence.”

She rests her cheek against my shoulder, so I lift my hand and stroke her hair, saying, “It was always the fanatics who have been an issue, not the majority.  I think if modern science and technology weren’t so advanced, we’d continue to remain in the shadows, but forensics and digital photographs are going to make hiding our existence more difficult in the coming years.  So much so I think we have no choice but to reveal ourselves because I’m sure if humans discover us on their own there will be more bloodshed than if we willingly reveal ourselves.”

She nods, so I tip my head towards her and ask, “Anything else?”

Even looking mostly at the top of her head, I still can see her brows knit together and her eyes narrow.  She pulls her bottom lip in between her teeth and nibbles on it while she thinks.  A minute later she shakes her head and says, “I think that’s about it.  Everything else I know about vampires I learned from you over the last three days, so I think that clarifies everything, but if I’m not sure, I’ll ask you.”

I tighten my arms around her and say, “Good.  Everything is fair game between us, okay?  Whatever you want to know, whether it’s a vampire, supernatural, or personal question, feel free to ask, but I’d prefer you ask the personal questions in private because while most vampires have the broad basics of mine and my sire’s histories the basics are as broad as we can make them.  Knowledge is power, and we want as few individuals as possible to have power over us.”

She smiles and says, “That makes sense.”

I incline my head and peck her on the lips before sliding her off my lap, “Let’s go home and get you fed.  Then we need to find the most badass outfit you own and have you wear that tonight.”

She laughs and shakes her head, “My clothes are pretty tame, though, I have a pair of leather pants in the far reaches of my closet at home if you’re willing to stop there and grab them before we head to your house.”

I stand and pick up her computer bag.  Then I place my hand in the small of her back and guide her out of my office while I wiggle my eyebrows and say, “We’ll stop over there on the way home then.”

She just giggles until I stop at Vincent’s desk and ask him, “Childe, will you make sure Emma is brought to the warehouse by 8:30?”

He smiles and says, “She’ll be there in plenty of time, Sire.  I also typed up a report of everything that happened in your office and then added Beth’s report, which she emailed me, to mine and forwarded them to you and our grandsire.”

I turn wide eyes on Beth and ask, “You wrote a report and gave it to Vincent?”

She inclines her head and says, “I had already started compiling my findings, and he asked me to read over his report, so when I finished reading what he wrote, I replied with one change and attached mine as well.  I figured if I am the new area investigator, I’ll need to get in the habit of writing official reports detailing what I discover while investigating each case.”

I nod.  I was planning to tell her the specifics of what I need from her as the area investigator later tonight or tomorrow, but she has proven once again that she is more than perfect for this job.

Vincent grins and sits back in his chair, saying, “The level of, and attention to, detail will please you and our grandsire, both.  Her reporting style will be much more to your liking than Mick’s was.”

I beam because Mick’s reports jumped all over the place and it usually took me sitting him down and going over everything for me to understand what he wrote.

Vincent gives me a knowing smirk and says, “I literally just sent you your copy.  When you get home, check your email so you can read it over before the trial.”

I nod and tell them, “Thank you.  Excellent work, both of you.”

They smile at me, so I grin and tell Vincent, “We’ll see you at 8:45 p.m.”

He picks up the necklace off his desk and says, “Oh sister, I took these off before the Monaghans showed up.  Wouldn’t want to appear childish before our Maker’s subjects no matter how true it might be.”

She giggles so he shrugs and says, “Anyway, you should take this back for now.”

She shakes her head and says, “Keep it.  I have another one at home that I’ll grab while we’re there.”

He grins and says, “In that case, thank you.  I look forward to being immature with you in the future.”

She just smiles in return and says, “Count on it big-brother-o-mine.”

He nods and then waves his hand at us in a ‘shoo’ gesture, and I snort but don’t reply before I escort Beth to the elevator, and we go down to the garage. 

The ride to her apartment is silent but comfortable.  I want to be diligent while we’re there because if Mick booby-trapped her car, then there is no telling what else he might have had done to her apartment since she was last there.

After I park, I step out of the car with my senses on high alert.  I don’t notice anything that should alarm me, so I walk around to her door and open it for her.

We cross the street hand in hand and head into her building before I pull her behind me and inhale deeply.

She melds her body into mine and puts her free hand on my shoulder.  I don’t know if she senses something is wrong and is seeking comfort or if she’s trying to present the smallest target possible. 

I curl one arm behind my back and hold her to me while lifting my other hand in a hold on gesture and draw in another slow breath trying to pinpoint where the alarming, yet fading, scent of Old Spice, 12-year-old Whisky, cigars, and 55 years of decay is coming from before casting my gaze in every direction. 

When I’m confident we’re alone, I steer us both further into the building.  Easing open the door to the stairs, I stick my head inside the doorway and glance up, but there’s no one lying in wait, so I push the door all the way open and precede her into the stairwell before ascending the stairs.

The scent is stronger the closer we get to her door, but I can already tell we’re alone in both the hallway and the building.  When we reach her door, I release her hand and motion toward the door but tell her, “Unlock it but don’t open it.”

Her eyes are wide, but she nods and slides her key into the lock, turning it and stepping out of the line of sight of anyone who might be on the other side of the door. 

I turn the doorknob slowly and listen carefully for a trip wire on the door.  No sound comes from the apartment, so I continue twisting the handle, and after moving us both to the left of the doorway, I slowly slide the door open and push it the rest of the way.

Nothing happens, so I pop my head into the doorway before pulling it back at full vampire speed.  In that split second my eyes land on the ruins of her apartment, but no one is lying in wait for us.

I step into the doorway and pull her along with me.  Part of me wants to leave her in the hallway and clear the apartment alone, but I refuse to leave her alone when I know Mick’s been here in the last hour.

I search each room and verify we’re alone and there are no incendiary devices present.  Beth’s just following me around on autopilot.  When I turn and pull her into my arms, she whispers, “Who did this?”

I sigh and tell her, “Mick’s unique scent is heavy on the air, so my guess is he left San Diego this morning and came here.  Can you think of anything he would be searching for that he’d have to trash your apartment?”

She glances at her now empty bookshelves and the piles of books scattered on the floor in front of the shelves.  Her couch cushions are on the floor, too.  Shaking her head, she says, “No, he knows where my safe is and that I use it for anything I don’t want stolen or found, but I took everything from the safe after work on Friday.  I hid it all in my room at your house.”

I look at the mess Mick made again, telling her, “Then he wanted an article of clothing or something that belongs to you for a spell of some sort and trashed the place to make knowing what he took more difficult.  Look and see if you can tell if anything is missing but don’t touch anything lest he tries to poison you again.”

She exhales noisily but moves around and examines everything.  When she gets to the bathroom, she calls out, “My hairbrush is missing and my toothbrush.  I have travel versions I’m using at your house, but my everyday versions are missing, and the grey sweater, which was on my couch on Wednesday night, is missing from the couch, and I don’t see it anywhere.”

I nod and tell her, “While my nose isn’t as precise as Spencer’s, it is sensitive enough it should pick up on anything out of the ordinary.  That said, I don’t smell anything to indicate there is poison present so grab what we came for and then let’s get out of here.  I’ll send someone to come and clean this for you, and if you don’t object, I’ll have them box everything and bring it to my house.”

She raises and lowers one elegant shoulder and says, “I was working under the assumption I’d be moving in with you for the next few centuries anyway so that works for me.”

I motion toward her bedroom, so we go in, and step over piles of clothes.  She heads to the closet and goes inside for a moment.  Then she comes out with possibly the only garments not already strewn about the floor, a cream-colored sleeveless shirt with a black lace overlay, lace jacket, and black leather pants.  She takes each item off the hangers and drapes them over her arm before going to her bed and sliding the second, smaller suitcase she told me about the other night from under her bed.  She puts her clothes into it.  Then she quickly puts everything that’s in her top two drawers, mostly brightly colored and patterned panties and bras from what I can tell, into the suitcase and closes it.  I suppose Mick being the prude he is didn’t want to go nosing around in her underwear drawer.

She shrugs at my raised eyebrow and says, “Sorry, but I don’t want anyone, not even Susan, pawing through my undies so…”

I snicker and say, “Grab anything else you don’t want someone going through.”

She grabs the jewelry box and the stand holding a bunch of necklaces off the top of her dresser before placing them inside the suitcase. 

The scent of vampire trails from her jewelry box when she passes by me, so I frown and ask, “Why does your jewelry box smell of multiple vampires?”

She grimaces and asks, “You can smell it?”

I just nod and say, “Uh huh, stop stalling.”

She turns to face me and wrings her fingers together in front of her, twisting them back and forth, “I um, maybe still have the vial of Black Crystal I got while helping Mick track down Lola.”

My eyes widen because that’s the last thing I expected her to say.  I just stare at her blinking slowly before asking, “You—you kept it?”

She shifts on her feet, and while staring at the ground, she says, “I didn’t plan to use it.  After the one time I did, I’m not in a hurry to embarrass myself like that again.  I just, they say you’re not supposed to flush drugs down the toilet because it taints the water supply, and while I know it’s just one vial I figured it was safer in my jewelry box than in the rivers and streams.”

She glances up at me and says, “I know it contains vampire blood and silver and I wasn’t sure what it would do to the wildlife, so I decided to err on the side of caution.”

I nod but hold out my hand and tell her, “If you’re not planning to use it, then give it to me, and I’ll make sure it’s properly and safely destroyed.”

She lets out a heavy breath, and when her eyes meet mine, she says, “Thank God.  I didn’t want it anywhere near me, but I really was worried what dumping it would do.” 

She finishes that statement by striding back to her suitcase, opening her jewelry box and taking out the little vial of black powder which contains dried and crystallized vampire blood mixed with the silver used to paralyze the vampire the blood came from.  It’s the silver that killed some of the humans who used it, so I send up a small thanks to whoever was watching out for Beth that her vial didn’t have enough silver in it to kill her.

She reaches her hand towards me and says, “Thank you.  I hate having it.  I’ve never been so embarrassed as I was the morning after I took that.”

I grip the vial and then put it into my pocket before asking, “What exactly did you do that was so terrible?”

A blush slides across her cheeks, “Can you believe I actually begged Mick to turn me?  He had to stick me fully clothed in a cold shower to sober me up and even then, it took a while.”

Wow, not what I was expecting her to say.  I grin and ask, “Did it just lower your inhibitions and allow you to ask for what you truly wanted, or did it make you want things you wouldn’t ordinarily want?”

Her blush deepens, and she begins to study the floor again before she whispers, “Um, the first.”

I stride the two steps to her and pull her into my arms, stroking her hair.  When her arms come up and surround me, I say, “There’s nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed about.  Yes, Mick was the wrong vampire to ask, but now you’ll get your wish even if it will be slightly delayed by the arrival of your little ones.”

I hope Mick is listening.  Perhaps knowing she’s pregnant will keep him from trying to kill her again.  Honestly, it might not make a difference to him merely because I still plan to turn her, but I figure it can’t hurt to put the information out there for him.

She squeezes her arms holding me for a moment and then releases me and steps back.  Digging her toe into her carpet, she says, “I don’t know why I ever fancied myself in love with Mick.  He constantly made me feel like I was less than him because I don’t consider all vampires monsters.  Like I’m a naive little girl playing with the big bad monsters but not realizing the true danger I’m in.  It was as though my feelings and desires were wrong.  I can see that now, but even a week ago I couldn’t.”

I exhale a deep breath and then say, “I’m finding that sometimes it takes distance to see things clearly.”  I’m not just talking about _her_ relationship with Mick.

She just nods.  Then she glances around, “Okay, I think that’s everything I don’t want strangers pawing through.”

She zips up her suitcase but then asks, “Hey, do I need any fancy or sexy wear in the next few days or can I leave it for your person to deal with.”

I tilt my head to the right and wiggle my eyebrows, “Sexy wear?”

She giggles, “Way to stay focused Josef.”

I just smirk at her, so she shakes her head a bit with a bemused smile on her face and says, “I meant sexy dresses.  I only have my gown from the dedication at your house.”

I scratch my chin.  Then I tell her, “They can wait.”  Then an idea forms in my head, so I say, “On second thought, hold on.  I may have a way to make your move much easier on everyone, while still retaining your privacy.” 

I retrieve my phone out of my pocket and place a call to a close friend who owes me a string of favors.  I’m ever mindful of the possibility of listening devices in the ruined apartment, so when she answers, I speak in my father’s native language of Akkadian and tell her, “Evie, it’s Josef.  I’m calling in one of the favors you owe me.”

She responds in her family’s native language of Gaelic and says, “What do you need?”

I explain what I want, and she tells me, “I can be there in two minutes.”

I grin even though she can’t see it and say, “That’s fine.”

I disconnect the call a moment later and tell Beth, “Be prepared.  She’ll be teleporting here momentarily.”

Beth nods.  Then we just stand and wait, and 60 seconds later Evie appears in the room beside me with a soft pop. 

Evie is shorter than Beth by at least an inch or two and embodies the stereotypical witch, complete with Mother Goddess curves, which echo the contours of the Venus of Willendorf.  She habitually wears gypsy skirts that swish when she moves and peasant shirts, which do nothing to detract from her voluptuousness.  I’m also not sure I’d recognize her if she weren’t wearing what appears to be 50 silver, copper, gold, and platinum bangles on her wrists even if they are only really a dozen on each arm.  Her thick brogue tops off the stereotype, though, I’m relatively sure she intentionally makes it thicker.

Today’s outfit is in shades of rust and amber with yellow and orange accents which contrast her robin’s egg blue eyes and her dark auburn hair.  She’s wearing an anklet or two with little bells on it because when she shifts the tinkling of tiny chimes echoes up through the room.

I once asked her why she so openly embraces the stereotype and she told me it was for her own protection.  Humans see her coming a mile away and think new age hippie.  They roll their eyes and move on instead of fearing or attacking her.  Her explanation made sense, so I stopped poking fun at her for how she dresses.

She allows her gaze to dart around the room and says, “Who tore through here?”

I release a heavy sigh, “Based on his scent thick in the air I’d say Mick did.  Have you heard what’s happened to him?”

She shrugs and asks, “You mean him displaying epic stupidity by blatantly disobeying your maker?”

I incline my head, so she grins, “Then yes, I heard.”

She glances around again, “I have everything I’ll need to do what you asked,” then she strides into the living room and clears off what’s left on the table Beth used as her desk.  Then she takes a baggie of salt out of her satchel and draws a pentagram on the table.  She goes into each room of the apartment and puts a white candle in each corner of every room and black candles in between each of the white ones.

She takes four more candles from her bag after she draws the borders of the apartment.  She puts the red, yellow, blue and green candles in the appropriate cardinal directions in the pentagram and a bigger white candle in the middle of the pentacle.

She retrieves some baggies from her bag next and then a small incense burner and a cauldron.  She lights the burner before she sprinkles the contents of the various baggies onto the fire and into the cauldron.  She sprays some water from a bottle and sprinkles some dirt onto both before she whispers some words and a flash of light explodes in the room when the candles all light.

She glances at me and says, “I’ve neutralized several listening devices, which are now in the toilet.  Now, I’ll do the second thing you asked for.”

I nod and go into the bathroom.  I peer into the toilet and find three bugs.  I flush the toilet and watch them disappear before returning to the living room.

Evie has been working while I flushed Mick’s listening devices down the sewer because she stares at me and says, “I’m ready so stay still.”

I incline my head, so she faces the table and chants for a few minutes, her voice getting louder with each recitation before the room once again explodes in light and when my eyes readjust the space is completely empty of all of Beth’s things, including her furniture.  I go into the bedroom, and after checking the closet and the bathroom, I return to the living room and tell them, “Looks like you got everything.”

Evie scowls playfully and asks, “You doubted me?”

I snort and say, “Not even once, I know better.”

A smile breaks out on her face, “Smart man.  Now, I worded it so the things he took should be back with your future childe’s belongings at your house.  Whenever possible, the magick put all her stuff away, so the clothes will be in the closet or drawers, books on shelves, and so forth.  The furniture is in one of the storage rooms in your basement, and I threw in a cleansing spell for good measure, so everything should be clean of magick and poison, too.”

I incline my head and say, “Thank you, you just removed two favors from the ones you owe me.”

She shakes her head, “Only one.  The other is because I don’t advocate the murder of innocents, so it’s on the house to help prevent your future childe from meeting an untimely end.”

Beth smiles and asks, “Thank you, uh I didn’t catch your name.”

Evie moves a step closer to Beth, and after raising her hand to her chest, she says, “My name is Evelyn McClarty.  You may call me Evie.”

Evie reaches out her hand for Beth to shake.  My eyes widen a smidge when Beth glances at me first as if to ask if shaking her hand is safe.

I nod and say, “It was wise of you to hesitate.  Most supes don’t shake hands because the act of touch can be powerful in its own right, but I trust Evie not to hurt you and not just because she knows what horrors would await her if she did.”

Beth grins with wide eyes and says, “Okay.  I’m Beth, Beth Turner,” and she grips Evie’s hand.

While they pump each other’s hands for a moment, Evie says, “Pleased to meet you, Beth.”

Beth tips her head, “Likewise.”

We don’t stay long after the introductions, so I escort Beth outside to the car.  Evie follows. 

When we reach my vehicle, I tilt my head to the side and stare at it for a second.  I can’t smell Mick anywhere near it, but it’s breezy today, so that doesn’t mean anything, and my gut is telling me to be wary.

Evie smiles and holds out her hands and says a few words before two objects appear in her hands.  She smirks and closes her fists over the two items, “Have a lovely evening, Josef,” then in Gaelic, she says, “Your car is clean too, and these will be coming with me to confuse him.”

I chuckle and say, “Thank you, Evie.  I’ll be sure and invite you over for drinks sometime soon so you and Beth can get to know each other better.”

She grins and says, “I look forward to it, Josef.”

I smile in response and nod once.  Then I guide Beth to her door and open it for her.

She gets in, and I close the door before moving back to the driver’s side and getting in.

Once I start the car and pull out of the parking space, Beth asks, “So, that was magick?”

I laugh and nod, “Yup.  We have for the moment thwarted Mick’s plans, but it’s only temporary because he’ll quickly think of another plan if he hasn’t already.”

She sighs but then asks, “Uh, who’s Evie to you?”

I shift in my seat and adjust my grip on the steering wheel, “Remember when I said I’m friends with nine mortals, you included, and only three of you live on this coast?”

She shrugs so I tell her, “Well, you just met one of my other friends on this side of the country.  There’s one more in L.A., one lives in the middle of the country, and another three in Massachusetts.  The other two live in Italy and Pakistan respectively, and some of you aren’t human, so except for the Kennedy’s you’re all long-lived, and I’ve known most of them for at least a century, significantly longer in most cases.”

She smiles but then yawns, so I say, “When we get home, you should have time for a quick nap.”

Her response is to yawn again.  Then she giggles and says, “I think my body agrees with that idea.”

I just snicker softly, and after she playfully glares at me and snorts, she sits back and closes her eyes.  About two minutes later her breathing evens out, and she snores every so often.

When I arrive at my house, I park the car in the driveway and get out and walk to her side of the vehicle.  She sleeps through it all, so I quietly open her door and unbuckle her seatbelt.  I place an arm behind her shoulders and one beneath her knees and gently lift her.

My butler is once again on point and opens the door when I get close, allowing me a straight shot into the house and up the stairs.

I keep my stride as smooth as possible so as not to wake her by jostling her and when I reach her door, I manage to open it without waking her.

I pull down her comforter with one hand before laying her down and sliding her shoes off her petite feet.  Then I pull the blanket up over her.

I stand for a moment and just gaze at her.  Goddess, how did I get so lucky that she said yes to spending forever knowing me?

I shake my head because _that_ will probably remain one of the few unanswered mysteries in my life.

I pick up her alarm clock off the bedside stand and set it to go off at 5:30, so she has time to eat and dress before the tribunal without having to rush, and then I walk to her door.

When I reach the door, I turn back and smile at the fact she trusts me enough that I just moved her from the car to her bed and she didn’t even deign to wake up.  I really am a lucky S.O.B.

I whisper, “Thank you to whoever brought you into my life.  I will forever be in their debt.”  Then I open the door and enter the hallway.  I softly close the door behind me and stride towards my suite of rooms.  I still need to read over Vincent and Beth’s reports and have a bite to eat.  I’ll change out of my jeans and t-shirt, too and put on my sheriff costume consisting of one of my many $2,000 silk suits.  Then we’ll go and publicly try and convict Emma of endangering our secret.


	13. Spanning Millennia to Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of this story.

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Chapter 013**

**Spanning Millennia to Come**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Saturday, February 02, 2008; 7:00 p.m. PST**

**Josef’s Home, Beverly House, Beverly Hills, California**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

Spending all day in and out of the sun made me weary, so I changed all my codes to get onto the property and into the house, and called my maker, informing him that Mick is back in town.  Then I quickly read over Beth and Vincent’s reports, followed by two hours laying in my freezer soaking in the sub-zero temperatures.

At 7 p.m. I get out of my freezer fully refreshed and stride into my bedroom.  I need to look the part of the 5,400-plus-year-old sheriff, so instead of the jeans and t-shirt, I wore earlier today I take out a slate grey suit, plum shirt, and a lavender, plum, and light grey paisley tie.

I’m a vampire.  I don’t sweat, and I didn’t go rolling around in the dirt or encounter any blood splatter today, so I forgo a shower.  I also forgo underwear.  I’ve never seen the point of them on men, and I’m not about to change my opinion on that anytime soon, so I pull on my pants and zip them without putting anything on underneath. 

I pick up my plum colored button-down shirt, but there’s a knock on my bedroom door before I can put it on.  No one in this house hasn’t seen me without a shirt on, so I raise my voice, “Come in.”

The door opens, and I smirk when Beth’s eyes widen, and she stops just inside the doorway.  She stares at me without blinking but says nothing, so I chuckle, “What do you need, Beth?”

She shakes her head a couple times, “God, Josef, a little warning would be nice.”

I glance at her, “And what would I be warning you about?”

She waves her hand up and down like she’s a presenter on a game show, “That you’re shirtless.”

I laugh, “You do realize not only have you seen me without my shirt on, but you’ve drawn designs on my bare chest and fallen asleep with your cheek resting against my shirtless shoulder?”

Her blush blooms quickly and spreads across her cheeks and down her neck.  She’s wearing a corset, so I smile while I watch her blush continue downward and cover the tops of her milky cleavage, which her corset just barely restrains.

A moment later she snaps her fingers and when our gazes meet she snorts, “I’m up here.”

I snicker, “Yes, but your blush has spread down to there.  I was just admiring the sight of your scrumptious blood so close to the surface.”

She giggles, “If you say so.”

I shrug and stick my arm into the sleeve of my shirt and then my other arm into the other sleeve before pulling the shirt over my shoulders.  I begin buttoning the shirt, “I’m guessing you came to my room for something other than watching me dress?”

Her blush deepens, but then she clears her throat and waves her hands up and down her body, “Um, yeah, I just wanted to make sure this is okay.  I mean, I haven’t worn this in public except once, and it was Halloween.”

I stop what I’m doing and allow myself to fully enjoy the vision she presents.  The cream corset with black lace overlay accentuates her curves and pushes up her bosom, and the tight leather pants hug her form so perfectly it leaves me breathless, which is saying something because I don’t need to breathe. 

If it weren’t for her heartbeat hammering in my ears and her unique scent of a rain-dappled forest soaking in the sun, she could pass for a vampire.

My gaze travels the entire length of her body from the top of her shiny blonde tresses laying in a tumble of curls down her back to the tips of her equally shiny black boots.  I grin, “You look suitably badass.”

She nods but then what she said occurs to me, so while I resume buttoning my shirt, I ask, “Out of curiosity what were you supposed to be while dressed like this?”

She smirks, and I resist the urge to adjust myself before she says, “Um, don’t laugh, but I was supposed to be a vampire.  There was this movie in 2003 called Underworld.”

I’m familiar with the movie, though, I never saw it, so I incline my head prompting her to say, “Anyway, all my friends said I resemble one of the vampires, so I copied her outfit and dressed in this to be her.  I copied her hairstyle, too.”

I smile and glance at her hair, which has small sections twisted separately and then held together, where it all tumbles down her back in so many ringlets, “It suits you.”

She beams and holds up a jacket, “Should I wear this coat?  It’s part of the costume but is it too much?”

I finish buttoning my shirt, “Let me see it on you.”

She pulls the black, mostly lace coat on.  Then she does a slow spin, showing me the full effect of the ivory and ebony corset, leather pants and the ankle length coat. 

I nod, “Definitely wear the coat.  If you get hot in the warehouse, feel free to remove it.”

She grins, so I unzip my pants and begin tucking in my shirt.  Her eyes widen before she turns her back on me.

I chuckle, “You’re not a virgin as evidenced by the fact you’re pregnant, so there’s no need to be shy.”

The scents of cloves, cinnamon, and nutmeg reach my nose while her blood rises to the surface of her skin even more.  She doesn’t turn around while she says, “Um, interesting fact, I’ve only ever been with one man in the biblical sense and um you’re only the third guy to get his hand down my pants, and that number includes Josh.”

I smile, “Let me guess, the professor was the other guy?”

She giggles, “Yes, but I discovered he was married before I slept with him, so I broke up with him, and I didn’t care about anyone enough to sleep with them until I started dating Josh.”

She peeks over her shoulder but then she faces forward again, “Um, I don’t want you to treat me differently, but I don’t really take nudity for granted so, uh, just be aware of that.”

I finish tucking in my shirt, so I zip my pants and then stride over to her and turn her, so she’s facing me.  I cup her cheek and stroke the petal soft apple of her cheek for a moment with my thumb, “I won’t treat you differently, but the fact you’ve only slept with one man deeply pleases the millennia-old man inside me.  That means I’ll be your second and while I won’t tell you that you can’t be with anyone else I will endeavor to make your statement earlier true by ruining you for all other men.”

She snorts, “Based on your showing so far you won’t have to try very hard.”

I answer by sliding my hand into her silky curls and tipping her head backward enough before I slide my lips over hers and slowly devour her mouth.

Her lips are apple flavored today, and I’m not sure if it’s because she had something with apples in it for dinner or because her lip gloss is flavored.  There are hints of cinnamon and vanilla but nothing chemical about the flavor, so I think she ate something.

While we kiss her hand rests on my chest, and she once again draws patterns on it, though, the effect isn’t quite the same because I have a shirt on this time. 

When I pull away from her lips, her eyes remain closed for a moment, and she has a dreamy smile on her face, so I stroke her cheek, “We’ll have to pick this up later when we don’t have a tribunal to attend.”

Her eyes open and she slowly nods, “I’m gonna hold you to that Josef.”

I chuckle and peck her lips.  Then I step back and move to my bed and pick up my tie.  I place it around my neck, but before I can tie it, Beth moves over to me and grips the two ends.  Then she expertly ties my necktie for me.

When she finishes, I turn and glance in the mirror on the door of my closet and ask, “Who taught you how to tie a man’s tie?”

She puts her hands on her hips, “What makes you think I didn’t learn from my dad?”

I smirk, “Maybe the fact he died two weeks after you turned four.”

She furrows her brow, “You’ve researched me.”

I actually learned that tidbit from Mick right after he rescued her, but I just incline my head.  Once her forehead smooths, she says, “One of the rare memories I have of my dad, which isn’t the product of someone else telling me one of their memories, is of him teaching me how to tie a necktie maybe a month before he died.  I spent a good hour nearly choking him to death.  Then I managed to get it right.”

She sighs but smiles, “When he passed, my mom gave me his entire tie collection, which, for the record, was extensive, I’m talking hundreds of ties.  Anyway, I’d practice on my teddy bears pretending they were my dad.  I did that until shortly after I graduated from High School when my first college roommate mentioned she thought it was childish.”

She shrugs and crosses her arms over her chest which just accentuates her already overflowing bosom, “I tied ties for a number of boyfriends through the years, including Josh a few times, but mostly my fuzzy menagerie of stuffed animals made sure the lesson my dad taught me didn’t lose its crispness in my mind.”

I reach up and stroke her cheek again, “That’s a beautiful memory.  Do you still have his ties?”

She smiles and tilts her face into my hand, “Mmmh.”

I lean in and kiss her forehead, “You will be able to pass down your father’s lesson to your little ones, and your children can learn how to tie a necktie with their grandfather’s ties.”

She grins and bounces on her toes a bit, “I didn’t even think of that.  I have some of my stuffed animals too, and Evie’s spell brought all of my belongings here, even the things I had in a storage facility downtown, so they can practice on them like I did.”

She bounces even more, “Is it weird that it just hit me that I have two tiny people growing inside me?”

I chuckle, “You’re asking the 5,408-year-old _man_ if it’s weird that you, a 26-year-old pregnant _woman_ , just realized what the fact she’s pregnant means?”

She giggles and stops bouncing and tilts her head, “Well, when you put it that way it does sound silly.”

I put my hand on her shoulder, “Maybe you should ask Daphne.”

Beth smiles, “I’ll add it to my ever-growing list of things to talk with her about.”

I peck her lips and pull on my suspenders and then my suit jacket before sitting down on my bed and putting on my socks and shoes.

I glance up when I’m done, “Have you eaten?”

She beams at me, “I did.”

I smirk and ask, “Something with apples, cinnamon, and vanilla in it perhaps?”

Her jaw drops open, “How on earth do you know that?”

I stand, “I could taste those things on your lips, and it wasn’t chemical enough for me to think it was your lip gloss, but I wasn’t sure.

She just blinks at me for a moment.  Then she nods, “I had homemade chicken cordon blue with green beans and spinach for dinner, but for dessert, Susan made apple pie and even gave me an extra scoop of vanilla ice cream.

I grin, “Was it good?”

A blush blooms across her cheeks again, “Good enough I had seconds, but I’m eating for three now.”

I raise an eyebrow, so she snickers, “That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.”

I chuckle, “You ready to go then?”

She smiles and holds up her purse, “Yes, but should I bring a purse, or do I not need an ID or my occasionally working phone?”

I hold out my hand, “Give me your wallet and your phone and I’ll carry them for you.”

She hands the items over, so I put them into my pockets and grab my own phone and keys and put them in my other pockets.

I motion towards the door, “I’ll bring you by your room, so you can drop off your purse.  Then we can go.  I want to get there early, though, we won’t be going in until the last minute.”

She tilts her head, “Um, why won’t we be going in until the last minute?”

I escort her out of my room and towards hers while saying, “Your presence is going to cause a stir.  If we go in too early, we run the risk of some of my vampires losing their cool and forcing me to defend you before my sire intervenes, which will cause my vampires to end up punished simply because they reacted without knowing all the facts.”

I shrug, “I know this is something they’re prone to do, so it’s my responsibility as their sheriff to keep that in mind and do my best to keep them from getting into trouble when I can prevent it.”

She pauses walking and turns and faces me, so I stop, too, and gaze at her.  She smiles, “I knew you’re a good sheriff, or you wouldn’t still hold the position 5,000 years later, but you’re actually amazing at this aren’t you?”

I frown and ask, “Do you honestly think my maker would raise a vampire who would settle for being good instead of one who would strive to be the best in every way possible?”

She giggles, “I can’t imagine my grandsire allowing anything other than excellence, so you make a fair point.”

I chuckle and guide her the rest of the way to her room.  Once we’ve dropped off her purse, we go down to my limo and drive to the Warehouse District.

While we ride, Beth reaches over and grasps my hand in hers, “Is there anything I need to know about protocol?”

I shake my head, “Other than keeping quiet unless Jorge or I ask you a question you should be set.  No one should try to touch you and if they do, tell them you belong to their sheriff.  If they try to touch you anyway, scream, and I will be by your side faster than their head can fall to the floor after I tear it from their shoulders.”

She nods with wide eyes, “Planning to tear off many heads tonight?”

I snigger, “I’m not planning on it, but I’m open to doing what needs to be done as the need arises.”

She grins, “That actually makes me less nervous.”

I turn and glance at her, “You’re nervous?”

She smooths her free hand along her pant leg flattening the creases in the material, “I’m pretty much being introduced to the supernatural community tonight so, yeah, I’m nervous.”

I squeeze her hand that’s still holding mine.  Then I rub my thumb over her knuckles, “They already know of you both from rumors of your work with Mick as well as the trial the other night.  Most of them will follow mine and Jorge’s lead on whether to be impressed by you, and the ones who will form their own opinions are relatively level-headed, so they’ll see you’re worthy of their respect especially once Jorge makes it known you’re not human.”

I shrug, “The belief that you’re human is what will keep most from openly respecting you.  Once my vampires are set straight, your inherent awesomeness will overwhelm them all.”

She giggles, “If you say so.”

I squeeze her hand again, “I say so.”

The car pulls to a stop, and the window between the back of the limo and the driver’s space slides down.  My driver glances at me in the rearview mirror, “Sir, There’s an accident ahead.  There’s no way to avoid it at this point, but I should still be able to get you to the warehouse before 9 p.m.”

I nod, “Do what you can.”

He tips his head in a small bow, and then the window rolls up.

I take out my phone and text my maker, telling him we’re running late, after which Beth and I just sit in silence.  Unlike the other night when Mick, Vincent, and I were in the limo, this silence isn’t tense.  Yes, Beth fidgets in her seat, but we’re not in trouble this time, so there is a serenity to us that was missing the other night.

When the car pulls around to the loading dock of the warehouse, it’s 8:56 p.m.  I’ve kept my maker aware of our progress, and I send him a message, “We’re here and will be entering momentarily.”

Jorge simply replies, “Good, tell my future grandchilde not to worry.  The crowd is relatively well behaved tonight.”

I chuckle and relay the message, which prompts Beth to raise an eyebrow and ask, “Relatively?”

I just shrug and open my door when the car stops.  Stepping out I reach back and extend my hand into the vehicle, and she grips it and steps out behind me.

I turn her, so she’s facing me, and I place my hands on her shoulders, “Relax, Childe, we’ve done nothing wrong, and Jorge will make sure they all know we haven’t done anything we shouldn’t have, and he has personally approved the delay, okay?”

She sighs but nods, so I extend my elbow for her, and she grabs hold of it, and together we enter the warehouse.

The crowd is talking amongst themselves while they wait, but as soon as we step into the space, the conversations come to an abrupt halt.  None of my vampires express displeasure or upset over Beth being present.  Instead, they all start whispering.

One vampire says, “Wow, the Magister must really approve of her if he’s allowing a human to attend a tribunal.”

Multiple people agree with him.  Then another one says, “He shows her great honor by permitting her presence.  I hope she realizes that.”

More of them agree, but no one objects to her presence.

My vampires don’t often surprise me by behaving better than expected, but I’m pleased this one time.

Beth’s hand grips my elbow a little tighter while everyone stares and whispers below human audible levels, so she’s aware they’re talking but doesn’t know what they’re saying.

I place my hand over hers and squeeze before addressing the crowd, “My future childe is too polite to comment, but you’re all old enough to know whispering about someone is rude.  I told Beth my vampires would treat her with the utmost respect, the respect the future childe of your sheriff deserves, and yet here you are making me a liar.”

The whispering comes to a screeching halt.  Beth gazes up at me, “Thank you, Sire.”

I squeeze her hand again and then escort her over to the pallets my maker is sitting on in his trusty plastic and metal lawn chair throne. 

I glance up at him, “My apologies, Master, for being late.  There was a traffic accident, and my driver couldn’t see it until it was too late to turn around and go another way.”

Jorge gives us his family only smile, “Quite alright, Childe.  You make a habit of being everywhere early, so you would have been truly late if that were not true.  Besides, according to my phone, you still have 60 seconds until we should begin.”

He rises and gracefully hops from the top of the pallet.  He strides towards us with purpose, and I squeeze Beth’s hand just before my maker offers her his hand.  She shifts her gaze to me, which is precisely what she should have done, so I incline my head, and she reaches out and grips Jorge’s hand with her own.  He makes a show of bending over her hand and kissing it.  Then he asks, “Are you feeling better after the attempt on your life, Childe?”

The whispers start again, but she just beams, “I’m feeling much better, Grandsire.  Thank you for asking.”

He pulls on her hand until she is standing beside him.  Then he stares at everyone else, “Before I hear the charges against Emma Monaghan there are a few things I need to make clear for everyone.  Be sure and spread my words to everyone in our community because I will not accept ‘I didn’t know’ as a suitable excuse for misbehaving.”

Everyone glances at each other and shakes their heads as if to say, ‘not me, _I_ won’t be _that_ stupid.’

My sire looks around at everyone in the first couple of rows and then says, “First, according to Dr. Ludwig my future grandchilde is not remotely human.  We have not discovered how or why her parents raised her believing she is human, but Dr. Ludwig assures me she is not human at all.  As such, prior to her turning you will treat her with the respect a Faerie/Demon hybrid deserves, understood?”

The crowd nods and says things like, ‘Yes, Sir.’

He places his hand on Beth’s shoulder, “Dr. Ludwig has also informed us that my future grandchilde is carrying Faerie/Demon/Shifter hybrid twins.  Apparently, her fiancé, whom I’m told humans murdered last month, was a Supreme Supernatural Shifter and they conceived twins together prior to his death.  Therefore, I have postponed the deadline for when Josef must turn Beth.  She and my childe have until three years and two weeks after the birth of her children before I will begin pestering them about her turning and officially entering my line.”

The whispering picks up pace before he says, “Ordinarily I wouldn’t be so accommodating, but because Beth and her children didn’t personally commit these crimes I feel I should not punish them for my childe and his childe’s unruly behavior.  Dr. Ludwig assures me three years of breastfeeding will give my great grand-children every advantage they deserve by being breastfed.”

He turns and smiles at her.  Then he turns back and glares at the crowd, “In the meantime, Beth and her unborn children are under my direct protection, and I will personally deal with any move to harm any of them, although I will probably have to fight my childe for the right to punish those responsible.  Effective immediately, Beth Turner and her children are off limits to everyone.”

My vampires nod again or still, who knows, so he turns towards me, “Now, I believe my childe has an announcement to make in his duties as sheriff.”

I incline my head, “Thank you, Magister.  First, to be clear, if anyone attempts to harm my future childe or her children, I will personally make them beg for death for millennia before I will grant them their final wish.  Of the two of us, any who break mine or my maker’s edicts regarding Beth will wind up begging for my Master to punish them because he will ultimately be the less painful and less harrowing option.  Given his acumen for torture, I think it says something that I would be the more painful of your options.  Remember that going forward.”

My vampires begin whispering about _my_ acumen in torture, which for the record is only second to my sire’s skill, so after I glance around, and Spencer winks at me, I smile, “That said, it is with immense joy that I announce that my future childe has accepted the position of Area Investigator.  She was already assisting the previous area investigator, and now that we know of her supernatural heritage I feel it would not do to wait until she turns for her to begin investigating the crimes committed in my area.”

Lots of eyes widen in the crowd, but no one objects, so I continue, “Thomas Murphy will be assisting her, but make no mistake _she_ is the area investigator, and he is merely her partner and assistant.  And for those of you who might question whether a non-vampire can adequately do this job, Beth is the reason we discovered Emma Monaghan’s treachery and so quickly at that.  She told me Emma was hiding something even before we knew a vampire was involved.  She was also brilliant enough to have a vampire smell the blood sample taken from the smear found on the victim and ask them to tell her if it was human blood, which clued us in that it was a vampire who caused this mess.  The humans still have no clue about us because of Beth and her speedy and insightful investigation into this matter.”

Most of the crowd has narrowed eyes or furrowed brows, so I say, “To be clear, there was a human witness who saw Emma’s fangs and knew she wasn’t human.  He was in the human’s custody, meaning they were within hours of discovering our existence, but Beth’s quick thinking prevented disaster.”

Murmurs go through the crowd, so I give them a minute.  When they calm and begin nodding, I glance at Vincent, “Bring the defendant forward.”

My sire kisses Beth’s hand one more time causing whispers to float through the crowd yet again.  Then he winks at her before gracefully hopping back up onto his makeshift throne and dais.

Vincent disappears for a moment.  Then he returns with Emma stumbling behind him while shackled.  Her movements are sluggish and staggering due to the silver coating her shackles.

The acrid scent of burning flesh, which comes from the silver pressing against her wrists and ankles quickly fills the crowded space.

Vincent uses a pair of gloves he grabs off a nearby shelf and removes Emma’s restraints.  The silver that has seeped into her system will be enough to keep her from trying to escape but leaving the shackles on while the trial takes place would prevent her from being able to properly participate.

Vincent shoves Emma into the half circle created by the crowd.  Then he stands beside me on the opposite side of Beth before my maker says, “Emma Monaghan, according to your sheriff and the area two investigator you killed a human in an extremely public setting and did not inform your sheriff or the cleaners that you had killed him thus putting our secret at risk.  What say you?”

She hangs her head, “I did it.  I didn’t want my husband to know I had cheated on him.”

Jorge scowls, “Until we reveal ourselves in May, our secrecy is all that keeps us from being hunted.  We won’t be announcing the successful creation of synthetic blood until next Wednesday.  If your actions had caused our discovery this week, we would not have had anything to prove we are no threat to the humans.  You put us all at risk for selfish reasons.  Your vampire and supernatural brethren should always come before self.”

She just continues to stare at the ground in front of her feet, so Jorge sighs and shakes his head, “First your fangs will be pulled.  Then my staff and I will personally punish you for up to a decade, during which you will probably go insane.  Once I am certain you have learned the folly of your inaction, I will stake you for another decade so you may have the time necessary to contemplate your responsibilities.  During that decade your body will waste to leather and sticks.  If the physical punishments don’t drive you insane your being staked for 10 years will most definitely drive you mad.  Twenty years from now, you will be unstaked, have your fangs re-pulled, and we will rehabilitate you enough to ensure you won’t further endanger us by going on a killing spree.  Then we will leave you to heal from the results of your punishments.  You will also be fined $30 million, which your sheriff will acquire from your husband while you are being punished.”

He glances over at me, “Josef, be sure your future childe gets a bonus for solving this so quickly.”

I grin, “I will, Sire.”

He doesn’t respond to me.  Instead, he waves his hand, “Luisa, you may remove her fangs now.”

Luisa saunters into the circle and stops in front of Emma who just stands there.  Luisa sneers, “Kneel.”

Emma just stares at the dusty floor and makes no move to comply with her order, so Luisa circles her and kicks out her knee, knocking her to the ground.  She then grabs Emma’s hair and pulls her head back in such a manner her mouth automatically opens. 

Emma has big, fat blood tears running down her cheeks and her fear has her fangs bared even though I’m sure she’s trying desperately to retract them.  The position of her mouth will guarantee they can’t withdraw.

I shake my head slightly because she could have avoided all this if only she had told me what she had done.

Luisa grasps the pliers in her free hand and places them around one of Emma’s extended fangs before she pulls. 

The trick to pulling a fang is not squeezing the pliers too tightly, or you’ll crush the fang.  That’s exceptionally painful, and my sire sometimes orders Luisa to do that   He usually follows it by then removing the ruined fang, but occasionally he lets them suffer with crushed fangs, which takes four to eight times as long to heal as they would if my maker simply pulled them.  He mostly saves that punishment for the repeat poachers and thieves. 

Tonight, Luisa cleanly extracts Emma’s fang causing a rush of blood to spray towards the crowd.  The cloying scent of dead blood quickly fills the room and most everyone wrinkles their noses at the disgusting aroma.

Emma cried out when Luisa ripped the fang from her mouth but otherwise doesn’t move or make a sound.

Luisa palms the fang and then quickly removes the other one.  When she has both fangs in her hand, she releases Emma’s hair and allows Emma to crumple to the floor.  Then Luisa tosses the fangs up just slightly and catches them before turning and facing Jorge who holds out his hand.

She jumps onto the pallet and bends one knee, presenting the fangs on her hand like it’s a silver platter.  Jorge plucks them off her hand and holds them up for the crowd to see.  Then he pockets them. 

He keeps every fang he orders pulled in a series of collections according to location, so after he has them engraved with her name, current age, and the date, they’ll join the hundreds of thousands of other fangs he has in jars in his home offices around the globe.

My maker stands on his makeshift dais and addresses the crowd, “Make no mistake, this unfortunate situation could have been entirely avoided had she only told her sheriff or the cleaners what had happened.  Should any of you ever find yourself in a similar situation, remember the pitiful sight of Emma Monaghan in a bloody, crumpled heap with two decades of punishment looming ahead of her.”

There are nods from everyone before Jackson pushes through the crowd, and when he’s front and center he asks, “Magister, if I may have a word?”

Jorge stares at Jackson for a moment with narrowed eyes.  To Jackson’s credit, he doesn’t fidget, so my maker smiles gently, “You have leave to speak.”

Jackson straightens his posture, “Thank you.  I would like to formally request that my lying, cheating maker be ordered to release me…”

Emma’s head pops up, and the crowd begins whispering again.  Jorge frowns, so Jackson raises his hand, “I’m not suggesting I be released and left that way.  I am more than willing to allow you to perform Our Most Sacred Rite on me with a new maker of _your_ choosing.  I trust you to make a decent choice.”

Jorge furrows his brow, but he’s not rejecting the idea, which means Jackson has a chance of convincing him.  Jackson knows my sire well enough to know this, so he offers a small grin, “I’ve been a vampire for 153 years.  In that time, I’ve had the honor and privilege of watching your relationships with your childer up close and personal.  I have always believed you are a successful maker because you and your childer share a common trust between you.”

Jorge nods slowly, so Jackson steps closer, “I thought I had the same level of trust with my maker, but clearly I was misinformed.  One thing I do know for sure is you are more than the Magister, you’re my friend, and I trust that if I allow you to choose a new sire for me, you will do so with my best interests in mind, even if only because my interests align with those of the greater community.  Either way, I will abide by your ruling, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.”

Jorge scratches his chin and just stares at Jackson for a few minutes.  Then Spencer steps forward from the other side of our maker’s platform of boxes, “Sire if it pleases you, I would be willing to accept this responsibility.  Jackson has been a good friend to me, and I would be remiss not to return the favor when he needs it most.”

My eyebrows rise into my hairline, and Jorge’s eyes widen infinitesimally, and his infamous poker face slips for a split second before he wipes all emotion from his face.  He nods, though, “Childe, are you certain?  Remember, it is irreversible.”

Spencer grins, “I know, and I’m sure.  If Jackson is agreeable, then I would be willing to return his kindness with my own.  Plus, we get along.  We spend hours just talking every week, and I often find myself seeking him out to have drinks and just shoot the breeze because we share most of the same interests.  I think it would be a perfect fit if you allow it.”

Jorge gives the smile of a proud parent, “Very well.  I will arrange for one of my witches to perform the Rite in the next day or two.  We will have the defendant release her childe an hour before the rite is performed and Jackson will officially become a part of my line.”

He squints and warns Jackson, “Make no mistake this is not an honor I give you lightly.  Do not follow in your current maker’s footsteps and cause me to regret indulging you.”

Jackson beams, “I won’t.  You have my word.”

Jorge just nods before scowling at the still crumpled Emma, who is now sobbing.  Then he stares at the crowd again, “Well, I’ve handed down my ruling and prescribed the appropriate punishments _and_ managed to earn my line another honorable vampire, so I’m in a giving mood.  Are there any other concerns that need addressing?”

Everyone glances at each other.  Then my vampires all begin shaking their heads.  Either they don’t have concerns, which I find hard to believe, or they’re all too scared of my maker to ask.  That might be for the best in the long run anyway because as I told Beth the other morning, my vampires are petty and childish, and my maker has little patience for either trait.

My sire sneers at Emma still crumpled on the floor, “Excellent.  In that case, Luisa, you may remove the prisoner and begin her punishments while I spend some time with my future grandchilde.”

Beth’s head jerks up, but she says nothing while Jorge hops from his dais to the ground and then strides to us.  He directs his gaze at me, “That is, of course, provided I won’t be disrupting any plans her future sire may already have.”

I frown, “We have no plans for the evening, Master.”

He gives us his family only smile before he extends his elbow towards Beth, “Shall we leave this place then, My Dear?”

Beth takes hold of his arm, and the two of them leave the room.  I turn and glance at Vincent, “Once everyone leaves, you have the rest of the night off, Childe.  I’ll speak to you tomorrow at the earliest provided nothing unforeseen happens.”

He beams, “Thank you, Sire.” 

I pat his shoulder and then follow my sire and my future childe out to the waiting limo.

When I get outside, my driver is standing by the door to the vehicle and opens it for me when he spots me.  I slide in and when I’m seated I grin at my current two favorite people.

Jorge smiles at us both, “All in all, I think that went as well as could be expected.  Now, I won’t keep you for long, but it occurs to me young Beth had some questions she wanted to ask me earlier today, but we were all distracted by Emma.”

He looks at me, “Is your limo still soundproofed?”

I smirk, “But of course, both through human means _and_ supernatural.”

Jorge turns and gazes at Beth sitting beside him, “Then in that case, what questions do you have for me childe?”

Beth glances at me, so I gently nod once, “Go ahead.  Blow his mind with your insight.”

That gets the desired result and causes her to chuckle and relax slightly.  She turns and faces Jorge, “Please know I’m not accusing you of anything, simply seeking the truth, and the truth won’t change anything for me.  I still want to become Josef’s childe even if what I think is true is, in fact, true.  I just have this need to know the truth of everything whenever possible.”

He inclines his head while grinning but doesn’t interrupt her, so she says, “I think it’s what makes me such a skilled investigator.  Anyhow, I was talking to Josef about how vampires protect those they consider theirs and avenge them if they fail to protect them.  During the conversation, he mentioned that’s why this situation with you forcing him to turn me is the best outcome because if he had turned me on his own, he would have needed to defend himself against Mick who would have undoubtedly sought revenge and attacked him.  That made me wonder if maybe you, knowing Josef wanted to turn me and that he wouldn’t be eager to risk ruining his friendship with Mick, might have pulled a few puppet strings to make it so you could order him to turn me.  That way you could give him what he wanted without him losing his friendship with Mick, or at least without him being blamed by Mick for my turning.”

He just stares at her, so she asks, “So, um, did you use your position to manipulate the situation caused by Mick killing Anders to yours and Josef’s advantage?”

Jorge gives her his ‘I’m so proud,’ smile before he turns and shifts his gaze to me, “I never doubted you when you spent hours extolling all the reasons why she would be an asset if added to our line, but I have to admit I’m not sure I quite understood just how incredible she truly is.”

While Beth beams, I smirk and say, “I did not exaggerate.”

He jerks his head twice, “Clearly,” then he turns and faces Beth, “Yes, Childe, I used my position as Magister to make sure the community wouldn’t think Josef got away with anything due to being my favored childe while making it possible for him to get the one thing he constantly told me he wanted, _you_ , as his childe.”

Beth beams at him and sort of bounces in her seat.  I chuckle and ask her, “You’re excited by this news, why?”

She stops bouncing and glances at me.  Then she shrugs, “I am because, well, I figured out his game when I barely knew him.  I suppose I don’t really know him all that well now either, but I knew him less than I currently do when the idea came to me on the way to the dedication, so I’m excited that my instincts are clearly still working.”

She leans over and hugs Jorge and then sits back with wide eyes and after bringing her hand to her mouth, she says through her fingers, “Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

He pats her other hand, “Provided you keep those displays to a minimum in public I will allow such behavior towards me.”

She grins, “Thank you, Grandsire.”

He just pats her free hand again, “I also promised to tell you my plans for St. John when he’s caught.  I will wait until he’s caught to cast my judgment.  Then I will decide what his punishments should be instead of having a running tally and constantly needing to change my plans.  So, I will hold off making my plans until he’s done committing crimes.”

Beth and I glance at each other before we both look at him and nod, so Jorge smiles, “If you both don’t need anything else, I’ll let you both do… whatever it is you were planning to do tonight.”

I frown, “I don’t have any plans per say—”

Beth pouts at me and interrupts, “Au contraire future-sire-of-mine.  I do believe you promised we’d pick something up when we didn’t have a trial to attend.”

I smirk and leer at her, “I did say that didn’t I?  It wouldn’t do to begin our relationship with a lie, so I suppose we can… pick up where we left off once my maker leaves.”

Jorge raises an eyebrow at me knowingly, “Your driver should be dropping me off first so…”

I just chuckle, and not a full minute later we pull into Jorge’s driveway.  My maker lifts Beth’s hand and places a gentle kiss on her knuckles, “You did well, both with this investigation and tonight,” he glances at me, “I am proud to call you _both_ mine.”

He slides to the doorway before turning towards us again, “This thing with St. John needs my immediate attention.  Therefore, I’ll be in town until we resolve this, or we have evidence he’s no longer in the region, so I’ll be in touch soon because I’d be remiss not to use my needing to be here to my advantage and get to know my future grandchilde better.” 

He grins at me, “And getting to spend more time than usual with my childe won’t hurt either.”

I incline my head towards him with a smile firmly on my face.  No, getting to spend more time with maker certainly won’t be a hardship, though, I do wish it were someone other than my best friend causing my maker to stick around. 

Jorge opens the door and gets out.  Beth slides towards the door and peeks through the open doorway at my maker’s home, which, though smaller than mine by more than half the square feet, is still bigger than most.  Her eyes get big.  Then she turns towards me while the door closes, “Let me guess, Beverly House is number one in size, the Biltmore is number two, and Jorge’s house is number three?”

I chuckle, “That house is number six, but he does have a house in Louisiana that is number three in the United States for total square footage.  I think I have numbers one, four, and eight in the top ten.  All of them bought from friends or their estates to help them pay off their debts.  Eric and Godric have numbers five, seven, twelve, and fourteen and Pamela has number eleven.  My blood-brothers, Spencer, Saúl, and Q. round out the mix.  All in all, except for the Biltmore all of the fifteen biggest homes in the United States are owned by someone of Roman’s line.”

Her jaw hangs open a little, and she just sits there for a few seconds before asking, “Seriously?”

I shrug and nod, “Yes, we all have bought homes from friends of ours who were in debt to help them pay off their debtors.  I think the only house in the top 15 built by one of us is Jorge’s house here in L.A.  He made it so big to accommodate his role of Magister.  All the North American defendants whom he sentences to a staking or physical punishment get shipped here.” 

I shrug, “There is a huge double basement, which houses 120 cells for prisoners and 100 punishment rooms.  Incidentally, my office building has accommodations for prisoners, too.”

She inclines her head.  Then she moves and sits on the same bench I’m sitting on and slides closer to me.  When she’s close enough to touch me, she reaches out and cups my cheek before leaning in and kissing me soft and gentle.

I shift in my seat and then grab hold of her hips and pull her onto my lap.  Then I slide my hands into her hair and change the kiss from soft to demanding.

She responds in kind and slides her hands from my cheeks down my neck to my shoulders while she tries to pull me closer. 

We devour each other’s mouths for the entire 20-minute car ride from Jorge’s house to mine.  By the time the limo arrives at Beverly House, she has invaded my senses from her lavender and vanilla body wash and shampoo to her supple and entirely tempting apples and ice cream flavored lips making my mine tingle to the silky strands of her hair sliding smoothly through my fingers.  When the vehicle pulls to a stop, I reluctantly open my eyes, glancing out the window. 

We’re home, but I refuse to stop kissing her, so I slide along the seat with her still in my lap and our lips still dancing together, and when the door opens I step out with her in my arms.  The whole time we continue to tangle our tongues, and I’m not sure she even realizes we’re moving. 

I use my other senses, the two not overwhelmed by how soft and tempting Beth is in my arms, to guide me to the front door.  My butler is, once again, on point tonight and opens the door for us before closing it behind us, and I completely ignore him, too focused on making it up the stairs. 

I pause.  Do I use the elevator, or do I vamp speed up the stairs?  I make my decision when Beth begins to pull away, so I hold her tighter to me and speed up all two flights and down the halls to my room.

I manage to open the door and then use my foot to close it.  Then I turn and press her back against the door. 

She pulls away and in between panting for air says, “Ya know… some of us… actually need… to breathe.”

I chuckle and peck her lips before sliding her down my body, enjoying the friction.

She moans while our bodies rub together but then pouts, “That wasn’t an indication I want to stop.”

We have a lot on our plates, and there are plenty of things I should be doing right now, but all I want is to be as close to Beth as I can, so tomorrow I’ll worry about Mick and the multitude of complications stemming from his running and trying to kill her.  For tonight, though, I’m going to focus the entire breadth of my abilities on giving my future childe as much pleasure and comfort as I can manage. 

Decision made, I smirk at her, “Oh I have no intention of stopping anytime soon.  The night is just beginning, and it’ll be hours before I let you stop and rest.”  I finish the statement by sliding my hands under the lapels of her lace jacket and slipping the garment over her shoulders and down her petal soft arms, beginning what I hope will be a marathon of love making marking the start of a beautiful relationship, which will, if we’re lucky, span millennia to come.

 

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**The End**

**(Until I Write the Next Story and Post It)**

**______________________________________________________________________________**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the end of this episode.  I would like to send out heartfelt thanks to #SerasSuperBetas.  Brooklyn4, Luner Kat, and pyrodaemon have been indispensable to the quality of this story, and I would have been lost without them.  Thank you, ladies.
> 
> I have mostly outlined the second story in this series, but I’m a little burnt out with this story after having worked on it and little else for three months straight so I’m going to take some time off from it and work on a few other WIP before returning to it.
> 
> This story is part of the Big Bang Challenge Buggy hosted over on Fiction Retreat.  The goal was 25,000 words and my story came in at 142,158 words so I’d say mission accomplished.
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this and thank you to Buggy for hosting the Big Bang. 


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